


Hold me tight or don't

by DeanaWinchester



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Art Embedded, Canon Compliant up to 15x13, Castiel and Dean Winchester in Love, Castiel is Jack Kline's Parent, Conversations in the Impala (Supernatural), Domesticity in the Men of Letters Bunker (Supernatural), First Kiss, First Time, M/M, New Relationship, falling!Castiel, soundtrack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-04
Updated: 2020-11-04
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:55:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 22
Words: 37,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27384547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeanaWinchester/pseuds/DeanaWinchester
Summary: With Jack’s soul now back, the four inhabitants of the Bunker are working on establishing a new routine. Between hunts, God’s wrath hanging over their heads and Castiel’s dwindling grace, the angel is not particularly eager to mention his deal to the Winchesters. With everything that’s going on, allowing himself to be happy sounds impossible anyway, right? Wrong…With embedded art and a soundtrack/YT playlist.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 163
Kudos: 301
Collections: DCBB 2020





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Here it is - my Covid-19/furlough baby, also known as my DCBB 2020 entry!
> 
> Writing this fic was so much fun, but also a lot of effort and frustration. It kept me going in hard times, but it was also giving me hard times.
> 
> Bucketfuls of virtual thank-you-flowers to my fantastic betas Kelly and Rachael for their valuable feedback and assistance, especially for putting up with my whining about POVs!
> 
> Then, there’s Liz, the absolutely incredible artist who chose my little pet project to illustrate. It was an honour and a pleasure to work with her - she is an actual ray of sunshine! I have embedded her gorgeous art pieces in the prologue and chapters 8&13, but please go to shower her with love and appreciation [here](https://lizleeships.tumblr.com/post/633868223326142464/im-super-excited-to-finally-post-my-art).
> 
> The last chapter is a soundtrack/Youtube playlist.

_It changed with a little, fleeting brush of a fingertip against a knuckle while clinking glass tumblers filled with whiskey. The contact was unintentional and minuscule, over in a fraction of a second, gone unnoticed by both parties, and even if it wasn't, the whirlwind of events following soon after would've overshadowed any realization of it. Yet, that simple touch derailed plans and set new ones in motion._


	2. Chapter 2

The Impala rumbled along the empty highway, headlights cutting through the dark. Dean at the wheel did his best to keep the ride as smooth as possible, occasionally sneaking glances into the rear-view mirror which was angled at the back seat, where Sam slept as sprawled as possible in the cramped space. Interspersed with these glances, he turned towards the passenger seat where Castiel sat, quiet and unmoving.

It was supposed to be a simple salt-and-burn, a “ _milk run_ ”, Dean called it, and technically, it was. But that did not keep the ghost from battering both Winchesters before going up in flames, courtesy of Castiel, who had finally managed to set the remains alight.

Sam had gotten the short end of the stick. The ghost had managed to push an entire bookshelf - literature and trinkets included - onto him, and left nearly every inch of him bruised. Castiel had offered to heal him, but as Sam had been worried about the angel's grace being in short supply, he’d declined once they’d ascertained that he had no broken bones or injured organs. 

With the adrenaline burst of the hunt gone, it took most of Dean's energy to concentrate on driving, but even tired as he was, he could feel that Castiel was upset. He'd seen his hurt look earlier when Sam had said 'no' to being healed, and knew that Cas' unbroken silence for the past 90 minutes was due to his usual stoicism rather than having nothing to say. Reaching over, he patted the angel's elbow for a second before pulling back and focusing on the road again. 

It took them a little over an hour more to get back to the bunker, and once they arrived, the three went their separate ways – the two Winchesters to their respective bedrooms to get some sleep, and Castiel to the library. 

The angel sighed with bone-deep weariness as he sank down on one of the chairs, head hanging low. He wasn't tired, not quite, but they'd barely stopped for the past two weeks. Things were quiet on the Chuck-front, with the deity probably still busy exploding entire alternative worlds. Other elements of the supernatural never slept however, so the three of them hunted tirelessly, the ghost being their fourth case in those two weeks. Tracing his fingers absentmindedly over the initials carved into the wood of the table in front of him, he briefly wondered why he tagged along, running himself ragged in the process, but as his thumb rested over the letter D, he had an answer.

“Finally, you're back!”

“Hello, Jack,” he couldn't help but smile, turning around to look at the nephilim. Jack – the kind, caring Jack he thought was lost forever – was like a ray of sunshine, warm and bright. The four of them were still working on settling into a routine now that the kid had his soul back, but it was getting more comfortable each day. Jack plopped down opposite Castiel and studied the angel carefully.

“How was the hunt?”

“Nothing unusual. Sam is a bit bruised, but he'll be fine.” Castiel tried to play it cool, despite still feeling weak and useless over Sam’s refusal of being healed, especially because if Castiel had been quicker at torching the bones, he wouldn’t have gotten injured at all. “Dean will be itching to go for another hunt by tomorrow lunchtime...”

“And how are you?” The kid prodded.

“I'm fine. Don't worry.”

“You still haven't told Dean.” It wasn't a question, and Castiel really shouldn't have been surprised that Jack knew. He was a powerful half-archangel after all, and with their connection being the closest to a father-son bond, of course he would know. “You promised me you would.”

“And I will. But it hasn't come up yet.”

“I'm sure there will be a moment when, out of the blue, Dean looks at you, and asks you if by any chance you made a deal with a cosmic entity,” Jack muttered sarcastically. Castiel laughed, knowing full well where the kid had picked up the attitude.

“Point taken.”

“Good,” Jack beamed, sternness forgotten. “Cas, I know it's not really my business, but... you and Dean, it's something different, isn't it?”

“What do you mean by different?” Castiel asked, stalling. He hated being called out on his feelings for the older Winchester, and the fact that it came from, essentially, a child – special as he was – wasn't making it any easier. 

“Your wings keep fluttering every time you say his name. And you say it a lot,” Jack stated like it was the most natural thing in the world, and for a three year old nephilim it probably was. Castiel smiled at him softly, and reached out to take Jack's hand into his for a moment. 

“Dean, he's... unique.” 

“You see, they did it again.” The muted giggle that followed warmed Castiel in ways he never thought was possible.

“Yes, they did.”

“And did you notice his soul shines brighter each time he says your name, too?”

“Jack –” the angel sighed.

“I'm making you uncomfortable. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to push.” Suddenly, the kid sounded a lot older than his age, and Castiel squeezed his hand to reassure him. 

“It's okay.”

“Before you left, you were telling me about the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World,” Jack prompted after a pause.

“Yes, I was...” Grateful for the change of topic, Castiel settled in for a chat, wanting to keep the nephilim busy and himself distracted until Sam and Dean woke up in the morning, as neither of them slept.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Castiel had of course been right. 

As soon as Dean was up and running, barely having finished his coffee, he dove straight into finding a case, not even waiting for Sam to agree. In fact, the younger Winchester replied with a firm, categorical 'no' when his brother laid out the facts of what looked like a typical vampire attack with two victims, less than 190 miles away from Lebanon. Dean was unusually excited about something that sounded so mundane.

“We should go.”

“No,” Sam repeated for what felt like the hundredth time. 

“It's a milk run,” Dean objected, starting to sound like a child trying to get their parents to allow them just one more candy bar before dinner. Castiel's gaze bounced back and forth between the brothers, silently following their verbal table tennis. He agreed with Sam but deep down, he knew that one way or another, Dean would have his wish.

“You said that about the ghost we put to rest _last night_ , Dean. I have bruises everywhere, and I mean ev-ery-where.”

“I need this.” Dean's tone changed rather abruptly. Sam looked taken aback for a moment, but he steeled himself and stood his ground. 

“We need to research, Dean, not waste time on simple hunts someone else could handle. We are up against God here, and we have no idea what Billie's plan is to neutralize him. We don't know how she wants to use Jack – don't tell me that doesn't make you uncomfortable!”

“Of course it does, but what can we research that we haven't a thousand times already? Do you think there is a manual for ganking God and his sister that we have missed so far, but now all of a sudden it will conveniently pop up?!”

“Maybe!”

“We haven't heard a peep from him in weeks, the radio silence could go on for only Chuck knows how long!” Dean jumped to his feet and started pacing up and down the length of the library.

“At least we'd have time to prepare then!”

“Prepare _how_ , Sam? For what?”

“You know, Cas, a little help wouldn't go amiss here,” Sam turned to the angel instead of answering, and Dean's eyes flashed triumphantly at the first sign of surrender.

“You can stay here, I will go with him,” Castiel offered, nodding towards Dean. The older Winchester watched in delight as his brother shot one of his patented bitchfaces at the angel.

“I can't believe I actually expected something different from you,” Sam rolled his eyes, but there was no anger in it. The second sign. “You do whatever you want, but I'm not going.”

“Yahtzee”, Dean said and all but ran to his room to repack his duffel bag he most likely never even unpacked in the first place, briefly squeezing Castiel's shoulder as he exited.

“Sam –” Castiel began, but he was interrupted. 

“This 'whatever Dean asks, you give him' policy is going to bite us in the ass at some point, you know that, right?” The angel hoped he managed to look apologetic as he shrugged, prompting Sam to continue. “You also know he's running from something.” Since it wasn't a question, Castiel decided it didn't need an answer, and he shuffled off to collect his own meager belongings to leave on the hunt. He could still hear Sam's weary sigh behind him, but didn't turn around.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

They were about an hour away from the Bunker when Castiel decided it was safe to talk. He settled into the passenger seat with feigned ease, fixing his gaze on Dean's profile.

“Do you want to tell me what you're running from?” He asked in a gentle, even voice.

“Did Sam put you up to this?”

“No, but there wouldn't be anything wrong with it if he did. He's concerned, and so am I.”

“You shouldn't be. I am not running.” Dean started to get defensive as usual. Castiel leveled him with a look that clearly said 'I am many millennia old, do not bullshit me, or else', and Dean appeared to heed the warning. “I am not _running_ ,” he emphasized, “but I hate being stuck in limbo like this. Give me anything to sink my teeth into, be it stunt demon #16 or Chuck Everloving himself.”

“I don't think rushing into hunt after hunt is a good solution against the feeling of inertia.”

“And yet you signed up to come with me, I didn't even need to ask.”

“You were determined to do this either way, even if it would have meant doing it on your own. Am I right?” Castiel countered.

“Maybe,” Dean answered sheepishly. “I need the little wins. This job used to be about saving people, hunting things, but now it's just trying to keep whatever higher power we've managed to piss off from breaking the whole damn world. It's like slapping band-aids on bullet wounds.”

“Do you miss the old times?” 

“It was simpler then, just Sam and me against the monsters... I do miss some of it.”

“Only some of it?”

“There may be a few things that are better now. I definitely don't miss spending every night in a motel, or worse, sleeping in the car because we had to be on the move even between cases. I probably didn't hate it as much as any sane person would've back then, but I'm too old for that now.”

“Old?” Castiel repeated. “You?”

“Dude, if you start with your 'I'm extremely old' bullshit, I will honestly deck you. It's not the same and you know it.”

“I wasn't –” the angel began but he caught the glint of mischief in Dean's eyes and he trailed off, silence descending on them.

“I never thought I'd make it into my forties is all,” Dean confessed quietly some time later, and turned on the radio, considering the conversation closed.


	3. Chapter 3

Eventually, they made it to their destination – Waverly, Nebraska – where the first order of the day was finding a motel. To Dean's utter delight, the one they chanced upon on the very outskirts of the town boasted about great water pressure in their showers on a garish sign, so for him, the deal was sealed before he even learned they had Magic Fingers.

From the outside, the building looked to be in a state of slightly aged disrepair, but it wasn't the worst Dean had ever seen – though, if he was honest with himself, even the tenth worst he'd seen was pretty damn bad. The motel's office was a small, air-conditioned room where a young woman with an unusual accent swiftly took care of the paperwork, which Dean filed with the name 'Dean Hale' in deliberately messy handwriting.

The room itself – a twin, with two single beds even though Castiel insisted he did not need one – was also rather small and sparsely furnished. A table barely big enough for a laptop accompanied a chair that Dean knew was going to squeak like a rubber duck under his weight, and the two beds with a tiny nightstand each were pushed into opposite corners on either side of the bathroom door. There wasn’t even a kitchenette, just an old coffeemaker on a chest of drawers, but at least the room smelled fresh, and the linen was clean and crisp too.

“Not that bad,” Dean clicked his tongue as he sat down on the bed closer to the door. The mattress wasn't as nice as his memory foam one at the Bunker, but it would do, and they weren't planning on staying more than two nights anyway. “Alright Cas, cops or corpses?” he inquired as he unearthed a charcoal gray suit and a white shirt from his duffel. When no reply came from Castiel, he looked at the angel with an eyebrow raised questioningly. 

“I assumed you'd want to partake in both?” Castiel finally reacted then, but he sounded disappointed for some reason.

“Nah, not if I can pass off half of the legwork to you,” Dean grinned. “Come on, you're a big boy, you shouldn't be afraid of handling either on your own...”

“I can assure you I am more than capable of 'handling' it,” the angel huffed.

“Okay, don't puff up your feathers too much, I was kidding.”

Castiel merely scowled at him. “If the tables were turned, I believe your reply would be 'bite me',” he shot back, obviously pleased with himself. Dean let out a surprised squawk and laughed. Castiel appeared to enjoy this result immensely.

“Yeah, probably it would,” Dean agreed between bouts of laughter. “I'm going to change and then we can get this show on the road.” He retreated to the bathroom after a quick detour to pat Castiel's back just a fraction longer and a few inches lower than usual.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

In the end, Castiel decided to have a look at the victims' bodies to make sure it was indeed a vampire attack as they suspected, while Dean went to the sheriff's office to get a copy of their case files. 

Neither task took very long, as close to a textbook routine as possible, and they reconvened less than an hour later in a diner near the coroner's office.

“The killer was definitely a vampire,” Castiel announced after Dean finished demolishing his order of bacon cheeseburger and fries. “The victims were completely exsanguinated, both their throats torn apart.”

“As expected. They were found near an old, abandoned water treatment facility. I would bet on that being their base. I'm just not sure why they would risk leaving their leftovers that close to their nest.” 

“Maybe they aren’t the brightest bulbs in the lamp.” 

“Chandelier, Cas.” 

“All these colloquialisms confuse me.”

“And yet you keep trying to use them,” Dean grinned. A waitress passed them with a slice of pecan pie, which had a huge scoop of vanilla ice cream and dollops of whipped cream piled on top, and Dean made a near-pornographic noise at the sight.

“Excuse me,” Castiel stopped her. “Could we get one of those?” He asked, gesturing at the dessert.

“Sure thing, just give me a mo',” she smiled and went to deliver the pie to whomever ordered it.

“If I didn't know any better, I'd think you're trying to butter me up,” Dean joked, but the fondness in his eyes made it clear he appreciated the gesture.

“I am not trying to use any kind of dairy product on you,” Castiel intoned flatly, and it took a few seconds for Dean’s eyes to widen in realization of being sassed.

“I thought you and Sam were in cahoots these days over reforming my eating habits, and now you're not only letting me eat pie without a word, you order it for me.” 

“Dean, even on our best days we are not 'letting' you do anything, you simply make up your mind and do it.” What Castiel didn't add was that he wouldn't complain about Dean indulging in one of the very few things he still enjoyed without any guilt either way, he'd just keep secretly regulating the hunter's cholesterol level and clear his arteries every chance he got as long as he had the power to do so. 

The waitress returned with the dessert, and set it down in the middle of the table, casually placing two forks next to the plate, smiling brightly at both of them.

“Thank you, Marie,” Castiel glanced at her nametag, and he brushed his pinkie against hers for just a moment. She didn't even notice the contact, but instantly, she looked more relaxed and when she walked away, there was a pep in her step that wasn't there before. 

“Did you just use your mojo on her?” Dean asked, already digging into the pie.

“She had a little congenital defect on her heart and she didn't know, even though it was already affecting her. It would have ruined her life in a few years,” the angel said, and picked up the second fork to fiddle with it.

“It’s nice of you to fix it, but shouldn’t you be more careful with your powers?”

Castiel sighed and dropped his gaze. “It barely took any effort. I have a perfect understanding of my limits, which means I will continue to use my grace when and as I see fit, and I’d prefer if you trusted my judgement.” He hoped his voice carried more conviction than what he felt; and looking at Dean, it did.

“Sure,” Dean nodded meekly and stuffed another bite of pie into his mouth, chewing it with gusto. “'S damn good, want some?”

“I'd rather not waste any of it. You know everything tastes like molecules to me,” Castiel shook his head and focused on twirling the utensil.

“That must suck, not being able to taste things...”

“I'm indifferent about it.” That wasn't entirely true. Most of the time, he was indifferent, but in that moment, he badly wished he could experience flavors the human way, and share the pie with Dean, as Marie had assumed they would. Instead, he watched Dean clear his plate and lean back with a satisfied groan.

“We could have a sneak peek at that facility,” Dean suggested. 

“We could, but we won't, unless you promise me that you will not rush into anything headfirst tonight,” Castiel replied sternly.

“You know I don't make promises, I'd just end up breaking them anyway.” Dean's coy grin made Castiel's stomach flutter in a mixture of frustration and fondness, and he gave in before he knew he was going to.

“Just some quick reconnaissance. I mean it.”

“You sound more and more like Sam these days. Let's have a sniff around, and we'll see. We should have plenty of daylight left still,” Dean stood up and rummaged around for his wallet, but Castiel stopped him by laying a hand on his arm.

“Allow me,” he pulled out a few notes from his trenchcoat pocket and calculated the amount of their bill, including a generous tip for Marie, placing it under the pie plate.

“That's half your gas money, Cas,” Dean objected. 

“I will use less fuel then,” the angel countered and strode out of the diner without waiting for a reply.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

They parked next to the tall, barbed wire-topped fence of the water treatment facility which loomed just ahead of them. It covered a massive chunk of ground and consisted of multiple buildings, some of them still in good shape, others on the verge of falling down. The facility was huge - they had no chance of covering it all in one go, even if they worked the rest of the afternoon and through the night.

“Here we go.” Dean got out of the car and shrugged off his suit jacket, leaving him just in a dress shirt. Not wanting to waste any precious daylight, they didn’t go back to the motel to change, although Dean had grumbled about the possibility of his least uncomfortable monkey suit being ruined. Castiel had a sneaking suspicion that Dean didn’t actually mind the formal attire as much as he complained about it, and surely he must have been aware that he looked good wearing it. “What, it's hot!” Dean scoffed at Castiel's disbelieving look as he rolled up his shirtsleeves then carefully folded up the suit jacket and laid it down on the seat he’d just vacated.

Finally, he seemed to find his outfit acceptable and went on to grab a box with vials of dead man's blood and two machetes out of the trunk - “Just in case,” he mumbled - and strode towards the gate of the facility. 

“I don't see any vehicles, and I can't sense any vampires,” Castiel advised as he caught up with him.

“It's a big compound. If they have any brains, they will be holed up somewhere in the middle of it.”

They stopped a few feet from the gate. It was closed, a massive padlock holding a thick chain in place, and there was a strip of virulent, waist-height weeds right in front of it. The whole thing looked like it hadn't been disturbed in years, and the conclusion was instantaneous. 

“There must be another entrance,” Dean mused, and Castiel nodded in agreement.

“We have to check the whole perimeter.”

“Let's split up, otherwise it will take ages.” 

“That's not a good idea. Neither of us is going further in alone, so we would have to wait for the other to make it there,” Castiel argued. At first, Dean looked like he was about to disagree, but he refrained and walked off instead, wordlessly waving the angel along. 

The further they went, the more Dean grumbled under his breath, especially when the light started fading. There was no gate, and the fence seemed impenetrable. They were about to give up when Dean spotted a trampled patch of weeds, and sure enough, at some point someone had taken a wire cutter to the fence there. Without delay, they dipped through the gap and found themselves in a yard with an assortment of free-standing concrete tanks, interspersed with pools dipped into the ground. A recognizable path wound itself between them, and they followed it, eyes restlessly surveying their surroundings. 

Castiel focused his grace in an attempt to locate the vampire nest, but he couldn't sense anything. He stopped for a moment, closing his eyes to keep any distraction to a minimum, and tried again. This time, there was the faint hint of something, a muted echo, but he was unable to zero in on it entirely. 

Then, a sharp yelp and an incessant string of curses pulled his attention back. 

“Dean?” Castiel looked around, but he couldn't see him anywhere.

“Fuck this,” Dean continued cussing as he climbed out of what seemed to be a sewer entrance in the ground a few feet ahead. “How the shit does metal snap in half?” He straightened up, kicking the broken manhole cover like a petulant child. Castiel took in Dean's state: He was soaking wet from head to toe, his hair was flattened and he had dirty water streaming down his scowling face. With a disgusted groan, he flicked a piece of something unidentifiable off the collar of his ruined dress shirt then lifted his head to look at Castiel. “Cas... CAS!”

While there was nothing wrong with Castiel's hearing, he could not be sure if that was true for the rest of him. Clearly, Dean was getting increasingly irritated with him remaining motionless, and the fact that he was staring in a manner he hoped wasn't too obviously hungry probably didn't help, but he couldn’t stop... there was so much to look at. For all it was worth, Dean might as well have been standing there shirtless: The white material clung to all the right places, his broad shoulders, the lines of his pectorals. Also, it had turned mostly translucent, so his anti-possession tattoo and even the shadow of his nipples showed, and Castiel tried to commit every little detail to memory.

“Earth to Castiel, hello? Los Angeles, you got your ears on?”

“Yes, Dean?” He answered finally, stepping closer to the hunter. If he'd been thinking straight, he probably would have realized how ill-advised that was, but with all of his blood, and, frankly, even the majority of his grace way down south, it didn't register. 

“Would you mind doing something about this?” Dean asked wryly, his hand pointing at his soaked clothing. 

“I don't mind.” Castiel's fingers wound themselves around Dean's tie and pulled, until the hunter's chest was flush against the angel's. Both froze at the sudden contact, and they remained like that for what could have been a few seconds or half an eternity. Then, Castiel jumped back as if something burned him, letting Dean's tie slide from his fist, and he dried the man off with an invisible flash of his grace. “There you go.”

“Thanks, Cas.” Dean did his best to not sound disappointed at the loss of Castiel's proximity, silently cursing himself for not keeping the angel close, for not pulling him back, for not kissing him when he had a chance. As soon as this registered in the conscious part of his brain, he felt a major freak-out rising, but he stowed it away with the promise that he'd let it loose when there wasn't a being who could possibly pick up on his thoughts right next to him. He kicked the manhole cover one more time for good measure, and gestured towards the remainder of the facility. “We'll have to check the rest tomorrow, not in the mood to do it now,” he continued and turned to leave, closing himself off.

Castiel, in turn, stayed rooted to the spot. He and Dean had been dancing around like this for longer than he could recall, reaching that edge more and more often as time passed, but one or the other always backed off, afraid of pushing things too far, or straying too far from their comfort zone, the safety of their friendship. Recently the urge had gotten stronger though, more insistent, more hands-on in all senses of the expression, and Castiel knew it was because it was increasingly harder for him to fight it. He wanted, he... craved, and pushing it down all day, every day, took energy he wasn't sure he had. 

Dean was already outside the fence by the time Castiel found the wherewithal to move, and he followed slowly, not quite wanting to catch up with him just yet. As he walked, his grace tingled once again with awareness of the supernatural, but there wasn’t anything close by that would have explained it. 

As he slid into the Impala’s passenger seat, he glanced at Dean, who sat with his arms crossed in front of his chest. Business talk then, Castiel decided.

“I could feel some subtle presence in the facility, and again on the way back, but I can’t pinpoint where it comes from.”

“We can stick around for a few hours to see if there’s any movement…” Dean suggested, and his previously steely expression softened somewhat.


	4. Chapter 4

Sunlight streamed in through the flimsy curtain of the motel room. It was still early, but the window faced east, so there was no escape. Dean stirred and buried his face in his pillow, trying to get away from the light, fighting to stay asleep. They'd gotten in late after staking out the water treatment facility, and Dean had only been out for about an hour and a half, in a deep and calm sleep which Castiel knew didn't happen often. The angel focused his grace and quietly stepped closer, raising his hand to pour it into Dean, just to keep him from waking at least a little longer. Dean shifted again, deeply ingrained instincts doing their best to drag him from sleep in the presence of daylight, and as he moved, the sheets slipped off his shoulder. Castiel couldn't help himself, and instead of laying his hand on Dean, in a moment of recklessness, he pressed his lips to the warm, freckled skin peeking out from the sleeve of his t-shirt, onto the same spot his handprint used to be. He breathed in Dean's scent, and as he breathed out, the majority of his grace flowed out of him, into Dean. Immediately, he relaxed visibly, sinking back into sleep, and by the time he let out a sigh that sounded suspiciously like “Cas”, the angel was outside the motel room, too far away to hear him. 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The slam of the motel door woke Dean, and he shot up, looking at Castiel who stood his gaze with an apologetic expression. 

“Good morning, Dean. Sorry about that…” he nodded towards the door. “It’s still early, you can go back to sleep if you want.”

“Nah, I’m up. What d’ya have there?” Dean rubbed his eyes and ran a hand through his bedhead. 

“Maps and schematics for the water facility. It could be helpful in determining the most likely nest sites.”

“Where did you get them? It’s –” Dean glanced at his phone “barely 8 am, surely the city planning department isn’t even open yet?”

“It’s not,” Castiel confirmed as he set the stack of papers down. 

Dean laughed. “So, you broke in and stole them?” 

“I _borrowed_ them, with all intentions of giving them back. I was planning on making some headway before you woke up…”

“Yeah, plans are not all they’re cracked up to be. Let’s get some coffee, possibly a pancake or two, and we can start after.”

“That sounds like a plan to me, though,” Castiel remarked dryly, his eyes following Dean’s every movement as he stood up and stretched, arms above his head.

“My plans are always what they’re cracked up to be, Cas,” Dean replied with a wink. 

“I know for a fact that’s not true.”

Dean shrugged and moved to the bathroom to get ready for the day. 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Following a quick breakfast, they spent the morning poring over the schematics. Eventually, they narrowed the potential nest sites down to two, but something still baffled them, and that was the vampires’ point of entry.

“Short of them using the gap in the fence and going further in on foot, I don’t see how they would access the nest,” Castiel summarised and rubbed the bridge of his nose in a very human fashion, leaning back on the creaky chair.

“Maybe these ones actually turn into bats,” Dean suggested jokingly, twirling the dregs of his third coffee. He was starting to get impatient, his interest in approaching the hunt with Castiel’s preferred caution dwindling. 

“That must be it, yes.”

“Well, do you have any better ideas?”

“Any idea is better than that, so it should be easy.”

Dean scoffed in reply as he set his cup down. Castiel’s sarcastic comebacks really weren’t helping his mood. “I’m itching to get my hands on some vamps, what do you say we blow this popsicle stand and empty that nest without worrying how they get to it?”

“Yes, let’s jump into it recklessly!”

“What do you mean ‘recklessly’?! We spent hours on a bust stakeout last night, then again over papers this morning. It’s a simple hunt, Cas, not rocket science! We are wasting daylight because you’re being anal over unimportant details!” Dean couldn’t help but raise his voice and held Castiel’s gaze when the angel tried to level him with a hard glare. 

“You would do well to remember I was a strategist in Heaven. Something is not adding up, and it could mean the difference between a simple hunt and a suicide mission.”

“It could also mean bupkis. Or, another victim while we argue here.”

“Vampires are nocturnal,” Castiel pointed out. 

“So not the point,” Dean shot back, displeased.

“I know what your point is. You need to keep moving, keep fighting, dodge punches... Anything to keep you from having to think.”

“That’s not what this is about.”

“Isn’t it? What is it about then? Do you think you’re invincible now that you’ve decided once again that free will is an illusion?”

“What does that have to do with this? You’re making zero sense here.”

“I am making perfect sense. You think anything that’s meant to happen will happen no matter what, and you’re absolving yourself of any responsibility.”

“Where is this coming from all of a sudden?” Dean made an effort to soften his tone. Cas looked ready to smite something, and he definitely didn’t feel like being that something. Whatever was going on with the angel, it manifested itself in an eerily familiar way – if he didn't know any better, he would have thought the half-assed attempt to lock Chuck away, with Castiel about to bear the Mark of Cain, went far enough to affect the angel. Of course, once the dust settled, he'd personally checked that Castiel's arm remained unmarred, just smooth, tanned skin from wrist to elbow, and neither had said anything when Dean had ascertained the fact with his fingers as much as he'd done with his eyes. “Are you pissed at me?”

“I’m ‘pissed’ at everything,” Castiel blurted out finally, and some of his pent-up tension seemed to seep away with the admission.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.”

“Okay,” Dean nodded, deciding to give up for now. “Let’s look at the schematics one last time, maybe we missed something.”

“We don’t know how many vampires are there, either.”

“There were only two victims, and no one has been reported missing in the county. The nest can’t be too big, I’d say 3, maybe 4 vamps?”

“That would be my estimate too,” Castiel nodded as he pulled one of the blueprints closer.

Dean rested his back against the wall. Spending more time hunched over papers on his bed wasn’t going to be enjoyable, but Cas was clearly still on edge, almost vibrating with nervous energy. So, he kept the angel just at the edge of his peripheral vision, not looking at him directly, expecting something to happen. What happened not five minutes later was Castiel making a hasty escape, the door slamming shut behind him before Dean could have even turned his head to look.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Once outside the room, Castiel allowed his self-imposed mask of cool to fall – it wasn’t good enough to fool anyone anyway, even before the argument. The rage coursing through him was such a Dean-like reaction that for a moment he wondered if it was his own or if it was just borrowed – learned, and that made him even more frustrated. He stormed off and walked aimlessly for the better part of an hour without even looking where he was going. Gradually, the anger subsided and gave its place over to a deep ache, which, at least, he knew for sure was his own.

When he ran out of road and energy, he sat down on the ground, folding his legs underneath him and buried his face in his hands. Simply getting through each day was becoming harder, and keeping his deal secret weighed heavy on him, but deep down he knew that if it meant sparing Dean pain, he'd keep it for eternity and possibly longer. 

“Cas,” Dean's voice, tender and hesitant, snapped him out of his reverie some time later. He lifted his head to look at the man above him, and he was about to ask how Dean found him, but then he remembered their silent game of chess, sneakily turning on the location tracking on each other's phones every time its owner disabled it. “I saw that you stopped,” Dean continued, and Castiel mumbled something he intended to be unintelligible. “C'mon, Cas, let's go back.” The hunter didn't wait for a response, he just grabbed Castiel's wrist, and pulled him to his feet, as gentle as he could be while still exerting enough force to make the angel move.

“Thank you, Dean,” Castiel said, though he wasn't quite sure what he was saying thank you for, and he stilled, focusing on the fingers curled around his arm. Willing his suddenly racing pulse to slow down for fear of Dean noticing it, he untangled himself from the contact before Dean had a chance to break it. Wordlessly, he settled into the passenger seat of the Impala, and the hunter followed, sliding behind the wheel. 

“Are you okay, Cas?” 

“I'm fine.” Castiel was tired of the charade, the same pointless question day in, day out. He hoped Dean would leave it alone, and usually, he did, but not now. 

“Bullshit. Talk to me,” Dean's full attention was on him, even as he whipped the Impala into a 180 turn. “Castiel.”

Hearing his full name from Dean was peculiar, and judging by the hunter's expression, it probably sounded weird to his ears too.

“I'm working on it.”

“Working on what?”

“Something you're not ready for yet.”

“I'm not ready yet? Thanks for the trust, Cas!”

“Trust is a two-way street, and currently there's not much traffic in your lane!” Here they were again, at each other's throats without the faintest idea what they were even fighting about. 

In any other situation, Dean would have grinned proudly at Castiel's smooth use of a metaphor, but under the circumstances, trying to deflect definitely felt like a misstep.

“This is not just about this hunt, is it?”

“No,” Castiel conceded with a sigh. “But your eagerness to put yourself into harm’s way is not helping,” he added a minute later. 

“This is a hunt, just like any other, nothing special, so what’s eating you?”

“It’s a long story.”

“We have time,” Dean shrugged then settled one of his arms onto the Impala’s door, trying to appear casual.

“I thought you wanted to ‘blow this popsicle stand and empty the nest’,” Castiel replied, complete with air quotes. 

“Yeah, I do, but… you see, I have this partner who got it into his thick head that unless we know how the vamps access it, it’s reckless.”

“Maybe the partner… overreacted slightly.”

“Oh, did he now?” In that exact moment, the Impala bounced and a metallic clang came from under one of her front wheels, so Dean stopped her immediately. “Baby, what’s wrong?” He asked, patting the steering wheel, and got out to survey the damage. It turned out that she just happened to push a misaligned manhole cover back into its intended slot in the tarmac.

“Sewers!” Castiel exclaimed after Dean settled back into his seat.

“What?”

“Sewers. They must all converge under the water treatment facility, so they would provide perfect access, and even protection from sunburn.”

“Which means they can move around during daylight hours too, if they want. Let’s haul ass.”

Luckily – although Dean chalked it up as being prepared rather than a stroke of fortune – they had all their weapons in the trunk of the car, so they drove straight to the water treatment facility. Armed with machetes and vials of dead man’s blood, they decided to use the sewer entrance Dean had fallen through the previous day.

Quietly, they descended on the rusty ladder into the tunnel and once they ensured there were no vampires around, Dean flicked on his flashlight to allow for a better look at their surroundings. It was nothing special as far as wastewater canals went, but at least its ceiling was high enough for both of them to stand straight, and it didn’t reek too badly, even though the roughly knee-deep trench that ran down on one side of the corridor was filled to the brim with stale, dirty liquid.

There was no sign of any creatures, and nothing to point them in either of the two directions they could follow.

“Cas, what do your elf eyes see?”

“Although I understand your references now, I still don’t enjoy them. My eyes see the exact same as yours do.”

“Any tingling of your Spidey senses then?” Dean grinned, and then let out a chuckle at Castiel’s exasperated sigh.

Instead of a verbal reply, the angel strode forward, and Dean assumed he had a reason for it, so he followed. After several quiet minutes, they passed another ladder, and a few feet from it there was a T-crossing, once again offering them two options.

“The center of the facility is this way, we should follow it,” Castiel pointed to their right. Dean didn’t feel the need to argue, though it was his hunter’s instinct pulling him that way rather than any conscious thought.

This new tunnel was slightly narrower, its air thicker and the trench occupying half the width of it came with a thin but constant trickle of water, surrounded by half-dry mud. It was in this mud that they found a footprint – men’s boots, not unlike his own, Dean presumed – and then another one on the concrete floor next to the trench, pointing them in the same direction they were moving.

“Someone was clearly using this recently. Sewer-dwelling vampires, just peachy,” Dean grumbled. A sizable rat scurried past him, its long tail brushing against his foot momentarily, and Dean let out a disgusted noise. 

Castiel rolled his eyes, utterly unimpressed. “You get squeamish about the funniest things.”

“They carry diseases. Monsters may be nasty but at least you don’t catch the plague from them.”

“I can assure you, if you happened to catch the plague from that poor animal, I will heal you of it,” Castiel huffed in irritation, and Dean was about to reply in kind when footsteps sounded from somewhere further down the corridor, effectively shutting them up. Careful to keep their steps light and any other noise to a minimum, they crept forward to the next crossing, where the faint beam of a flashlight made them flick off their own.

Leaning against the wall of the corridor crossing theirs, there was a tall, skinny woman, wholly focused on blowing smoke rings off of a cigarette, her fangs out as she used them to influence the shape of the rings. They ascertained that she was on her own before Dean stepped within striking distance, with his machete raised.

“Meep meep,” he squeaked into the vampire's ear, and as she twirled around to face him, he beheaded her with a swift swing. 

“Meep meep?” Castiel echoed in a tone that implied 'I honestly don't know what's wrong with you'.

“The Roadrunner? No? Okay then,” Dean shrugged. 

With their flashlights on again, they continued in the direction they assumed the vampire had come from, and soon found themselves outside a control room, its door rusty and warped just enough to allow some light escape. Castiel moved to open it, but Dean hissed at him. 

“Duck, incoming at your six!”

As instructed, Castiel dropped into a crouch, which gave Dean a chance to behead the vampire who was trying to sneak up on the angel from behind. A minute later, when no one else attacked them and no noise came from behind the door either, Castiel tried to open it again, this time succeeding. 

The room was empty of anyone living or dead, but incredibly messy and it smelled bad enough to make Dean grimace as he took in the trash strewn across the four dirty mattresses on the concrete floor.

“Two down, two to go,” Castiel summarised once inside.

“Where the hell are the others?”

“They will be back soon, I can sense them.”

“Good, let’s welcome them!” Dean’s eyes had a dangerous glint to them as he positioned himself next to the door, ready to attack whoever stepped over the threshold.

The two vampires were deep in conversation as they entered, so much so that the first one through the door didn’t even notice Dean before he was beheaded. The other one let out a loud, guttural sound as he turned to run, but Castiel was on him in the fraction of a second and the vampire didn’t stand a chance against his machete. 

Based on the number of mattresses, that was the last of the nest, so Castiel let his blade hang by his side, and Dean wiped the blood off of his machete on the bottom of his flannel – his clothing was splattered in goo anyway, so it didn't make any difference.

Then there was a rustle somewhere further down the corridor outside, and the muffled noise of footsteps followed. 

“Son of a BITCH,” Dean swore, realization sinking in. The first vampire went straight for Castiel, like Dean wasn’t even there. The angel dodged her attack gracefully, and drew her out of Dean’s way who barely even had the time to untangle his blade from his flannel before the second vamp was on him, his fangs dangerously close to his jugular. He slammed his elbow into the creature behind him, but all it accomplished was a few more inches between teeth and skin as the vamp took a short step back. With his other hand, he stabbed blindly. The blade caught the vampire in his side, and the injury distracted him enough for Dean to gain the upper hand and push him to the floor. 

Right next to them, Castiel managed to bring his own foe out of equilibrium at the same time. She landed in a heap halfway on top of her nestmate, a feral growl hissing out of her as she tried to get to her feet. Before either vampire had time to stand back up though, Castiel was there with a hand on both of their foreheads, smiting them out of existence.

“You do realize I actually like beheading things, right?” Dean voiced his disappointment, and Castiel scowled. 

“No need to worry, I think there's more where these two came from.” 


	5. Chapter 5

They stared at each other, panting, desperate to get air into straining lungs. Finally, they managed to clear all the individual control room nests. 

“I didn't think there were going to be that many of them,” Dean confessed.

“You don't say,” Castiel shot back, but he didn't have enough energy to put the biting sarcasm he intended into the words. “Maybe you need to stop labeling cases as 'milk runs'...”

“That was dumb, even by my standards,” Dean spoke again, and the angel just rolled his eyes at him, right before the edges of his vision went blurry and he stumbled. “Whoa Cas, you okay?” 

“I may have stretched my grace too thin,” Castiel's voice was weak, and his face flushed when he realized that it was Dean's arm holding him upright and not his own legs.

“You went all smitey on four vamps, it's no surprise you're winded.” Dean appeared to swallow around any further rebuke, and he wrapped his arm tighter around the angel, moving toward the door, clearly wanting to get out of the sewers as quickly as possible. Thankfully there was a level exit just on the opposite side of the corridor they ended up in, because neither of them would have made it up a ladder in their current state.

“I think I can walk on my own.”

“And I think we don't need to test that theory, because I will definitely not carry your feathery ass if you pass out on me, trying to play macho,” Dean brushed off Castiel's protest. Finally, they reached the Impala, and he carefully deposited the angel in the passenger seat, leaving him bereft of the warmth of contact.

They drove back to the motel in silence, Castiel slumped against the door, forehead resting on the cool glass. He detested showing weakness, especially in front of Dean, and the concerned glances he kept shooting at him were making things even more painful. He curled up, as far away from Dean as possible, but a hand found the crook of his elbow anyway, and Castiel registered the faint touch of those fingertips way too vividly despite the three layers of clothing he was wearing.

“I'm sorry,” he croaked out just as Dean turned the Impala's engine off in the motel parking lot. 

“Stop that bullshit right now,” Dean snapped, green eyes flashing angrily for a moment before worry took over. “Cas, there is nothing you should be sorry for. I was stupid, and I put both of us at risk,” he continued, barely audible. 

“You made a reasonable assumption about the size of the nest. There was no way you could’ve known it was so big. And it was my decision to follow you into it, no questions asked,” Castiel sighed in response. Wasn't that the story of their lives in a nutshell?

“Let's go in and get cleaned up. I assume you'll need to take a real shower this time?”

The angel nodded, and gathered every spark of grace he possessed just to ensure he could make it into the room without having to hold on to Dean for dear life. 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Dean relinquished the first shower to Castiel. Seeing the angel weak, sweaty and covered in grime was hard. It reminded him too much of the time he'd found the then-human Castiel dead in that armchair, and those memories were painfully vivid, bright technicolor. It had felt like his world had fallen apart, and yet, once Cas was back, he'd kicked him out... 

He sank down onto the rickety chair, and buried his face in his hands. Not for the first time he wondered what the hell it was between him and Cas, because it most certainly wasn't good for either of them.

He was snapped out of his reverie by the screech of the bathroom door. It opened only halfway and Castiel stuck his head out, wet hair sticking up in spikes. 

“Dean,” he started off tentatively, as if he was looking for a way to phrase his concern.

“What's up?”

“All my clothes are dirty.”

“Oh.” Dean scratched his neck. “I have clean stuff you can wear, but – “

“As long as they keep me from remaining unclothed until I have enough grace to clean mine – “

“Okay, okay, man!” Dean raised a hand in objection. For the sake of his sanity, the last thing he needed was that particular mental image, but his mind helpfully supplied it anyway. He pulled two items out of his duffel – a gray t-shirt and a pair of black sweatpants he hoped were the clean ones – and gave them to Castiel, doing his damnedest not to look at the angel, even though deep down he badly wanted to. When the bathroom door screeched closed, he felt like he could breathe again. 

The respite didn't last long though, less than a minute later Castiel stepped out, dressed. Dean wasn't sure if that was in any way helpful, because the angel was wearing _his_ clothes, slightly oversized on him as they were, especially the sweatpants which swallowed up half of his feet. It took a moment for Dean to find his voice. 

“Feeling better, buddy?” 

The angel looked better – his face was flushed from the heat of the shower, his eyes brighter, focused and alert once more. 

“Infinitely,” he nodded in affirmative.

“Good. I'mma clean up, too. No need to wait up if you want to sleep.” Without looking, he reached into his duffel again, and grabbed his bunched-up pajamas, escaping to the bathroom with his bounty. 

Even though Castiel had also showered, there was still plenty of hot water, and Dean enjoyed the soothing patter of the spray on his aching body. He soaped up and rinsed with broad motions, washed his hair and switched off the shower. With the pleasant sensation of the warm water gone, a chill ran through him, so he dried himself and reached for his clothes. As he did, he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror above the sink. His skin was mottled with bruises, scratches and cuts, but he was alive, and not in any considerable pain. It could have gone very differently, if it hadn’t been for Castiel, and he hadn't even thanked the angel. Deep in thought, he pulled on his hot-dog-patterned pajama bottoms, then realized he hadn't brought a top with him into the bathroom.

“Whatever,” he muttered with a shrug, trying to convince himself he didn't feel weird about being bare-chested near Cas. Never in his life had he been shy, and he wasn't about to start now.

While he was in the shower, Castiel must have turned off all the lights, because the room was shrouded in darkness. Dean took a moment to orient himself towards his bed, and flicked the bathroom switch off as well. 

“Cas?” He whispered, settling under the covers on his stomach, wriggling a little until he found comfort. The angel didn't reply, so Dean assumed he had switched off to recharge or whatever it was angels did when they were low on mojo. “Thank you for saving my bacon earlier, man,” he continued anyway, then buried his face into his pillow as deep as he could while still retaining the ability to breathe.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Hours later, Castiel watched Dean blink awake.

“Hello, Dean,” he greeted him as soon as he noticed the man's green eyes flutter open then sleepily drift closed again. “Perfect timing, I just made coffee,” he carried on, offering up a steaming paper cup. In reality he'd had a strong feeling Dean was about to wake up, and that’s why he flicked on the coffeemaker, but Dean didn’t need to know how attuned Castiel’s slowly regenerating grace was to his sleep cycles.

“You must be an angel,” Dean joked, and lifted his hand to take the drink from Castiel. Tasting the first sip, he sat up and closed his eyes, swallowing with a satisfied sigh.

As the sheets tumbled off of Dean's shoulders, pooling in his lap, Castiel was aware that he was openly leering once again. This time, Dean was actually shirtless, and the angel's eyes eagerly followed each curve and angle of his upper body, taking in the faded bruises as well as the fresh ones, meticulously counting each freckle... It seemed that the near-complete lack of grace in his body strengthened the human side of things to a previously unknown level as there was a distinct buzz in his veins and arousal washed over him, its hold powerful and all-encompassing. 

“You okay, Cas?” Half-asleep as Dean was still, his inhibitions didn't seem to be kicking in. “Like what you see?” He flirted, lazily drawing out the vowels as he straightened his back and tilted his head, almost as if he was offering up his neck to Castiel. 

The angel gulped but remained seated, even though every part of him trembled with the strain of not closing the distance between them. Sure, Dean seemed game now, enjoying it too, but even through the haze of lust, Castiel knew giving in would result in possibly irreparable damage to the already struggling friendship between them. Yet, he couldn't allow the chance to let Dean know at least part of his thoughts slip away unused.

“Do you even know how beautiful you are?” He sounded absolutely wrecked, but he wouldn't have changed it even if he could have. Dean tensed at the compliment and broke the moment, sequestering himself away in the bathroom, slamming even the latch locked.

Castiel slid to the floor, pulling the linen off the bed as he did so. He curled up with his hands laced on the back of his neck, trying to make himself as small as possible. This, he reminded himself, this was why he never went this far before, and why he definitely shouldn't have done it this time either...


	6. Chapter 6

The drive back to Lebanon was extremely awkward, the silence tense and electric between them. The one time Castiel reached out for Dean, he recoiled as if the contact hurt him, so the angel pulled back and gave up, absentmindedly playing with the hem of the t-shirt he was still wearing, just to occupy his hands. The soft, worn material felt nice on his skin - his grace was still too low to fulfill all of its usual functions, so the physical sensation registered more intensely than usual, and knowing that they were Dean’s clothes heightened it further.

As they drove on, each minute felt like hours, but finally, they arrived in the Bunker.

Desperately needing an escape, Dean shot out of the car as soon as she was motionless in her usual parking spot, leaving Castiel behind. On his way to his bedroom, he ran into Sam, who squawked in surprise as Dean simply sped past him. Castiel followed a few minutes later at a slower pace, his head hanging low, shoulders drooping.

“Hey, Cas, what's going on?” Sam asked, grabbing the angel who seemed intent on walking past him just like Dean did. “Is everything okay?”

“Nothing is _'okay'_ ,” Castiel snapped angrily. Only then did Sam seem to take in that he was wearing Dean's clothes and raise an eyebrow, but Castiel was definitely not in the mood to address that particular situation. He pulled out of Sam's grasp and stalked off.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Once safely in his room, Dean flopped down onto his bed, blindly groping around for the headphones he knew had to be there somewhere. He needed something to drown out his screaming thoughts, and music usually did the trick. His fingers finally closed around the headphones and he put them on, Metallica blasting out of them at near-full volume within seconds. Gradually, his racing heartbeat slowed as he tried to focus on the lyrics, soundlessly mouthing them.

 _“What I've felt, what I've known_ _  
_ _Never shined through in what I've shown_ _  
_ _Never be, never see_ _  
_ _Won't see what might have been_ _  
_ _What I've felt, what I've known_ _  
_ _Never shined through in what I've shown_ _  
_ _Never free, never me,_

_…_

_They dedicate their lives_ _  
_ _To running all of his_ _  
_ _He tries to please them all_ _  
_ _This bitter man he is_ _  
_ _Throughout his life the same_ _  
_ _He's battled constantly_ _  
_ _This fight he cannot win...”_

The words resonated deep in him, and it hurt, but it felt cleansing at the same time, and his breathing slowed. The song ended, and the random shuffle clearly decided to push his buttons even further. For a second, he wondered if this was Chuck at play again, toying with his existence like it was nothing, and his perceived inability to tell what was real and what wasn't threatened to paralyze him. Instead of prodding at all that, he went back to the music, and the lyrics. 

_“Lay beside me and tell me what they've done_ _  
_ _And speak the words I wanna hear to make my demons run_ _  
_ _The door is locked now but it's open if you're true_ _  
_ _If you can understand the me then I can understand the you_

_…_

_What I've felt, what I've known_ _  
_ _Turn the pages, turn the stone_ _  
_ _Behind the door, should I open it for you?_

 _Yeah, what I've felt, what I've known_ _  
_ _Sick and tired, I stand alone_ _  
_ _Could you be there_ _  
_ _'Cause I'm the one who waits for you”_

His thoughts then turned to Castiel, the only being who was just as headstrong as Dean was, and their matching stubbornness was eating both of them up. Trusting the walls of his room – or, if he was being honest, throwing any care about being heard to the wind, he sang along, each line louder than the previous one.

 _“How could he know this new dawn's light_ _  
_ _Would change his life forever?_ _  
_ _Set sail to sea but pulled off course_ _  
_ _By the light of golden treasure_

 _Was he the one causing pain_ _  
_ _With his careless dreaming?_ _  
_ _Been afraid_ _  
_ _Always afraid_ _  
_ _Of the things he's feeling_ _  
_ _..._

 _How can I be lost?_ _  
_ _If I've got nowhere to go?_ _  
_ _Searched the seas of gold_ _  
_ _How come it's got so cold?_ _  
_ _How can I be lost_ _  
_ _In remembrance I relive_   
_How can I blame you_ _  
_ When it's me I can't forgive?”

Dean chuckled bitterly: here he was, a grown, middle-aged man, singing along to lyrics he felt expressed his core thoughts better than he ever could, like a melodramatic teen girl. Even his self-deprecation couldn't ruin the rush of catharsis in his veins though. Maybe, just this once it would work out; or at least, it would be worth the ending… 

His inner turmoil settled gradually, and his eyelids grew heavy with exhaustion.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Castiel stood outside Dean's door, listening to that deep, raw voice as he sang. The angel leaned against the wall, silently taking it all in. His fingers curled and uncurled absentmindedly as he held the clothes whose return he was intending to use as a cover to go and see Dean. Even with his grace depleted as it was, Dean's emotions registered as if they were a prayer, unintended but rather powerful. For a moment, he wondered if he should leave; if this was an invasion of Dean’s privacy, but he remained, enthralled by the songs and the emotions behind them. 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Dean’s eyes snapped open. He could not be certain he did indeed feel the bed dip underneath him, but his instincts woke him, and those were rarely wrong. He willed himself to remain still, feign sleep, but adrenaline was rushing through his veins.

He started counting the passing seconds as he inched his hand towards the gun he always kept under his pillow, knowing that one hasty move could undo all previous effort. After what felt like an eternity, his fingers finally closed around the grip, and holding his breath, he spun around, cocking and lifting the gun.

“Hello, Dean,” a gravelly voice said as the owner of it stared down the barrel of the pistol like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Jesus Christ, Cas, I nearly shot you!” he shouted, recognizing the intruder in the dim glow of the night light. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“You were upset when we got back, and you didn't even have dinner, so I came to check on you.”

“We talked about this…” Sitting up, Dean let out a resigned sigh and lowered the gun, putting the safety back on. Castiel’s reply was a barely perceptible shrug, and Dean felt a strong urge to strangle him, just a little, his homicidal thoughts however soon turned to ones that realized the mere inches between his face and the angel’s. For all the good it did, the distance might have been miles, and yet Dean could not help but be acutely aware of it. 

Castiel stared at him, blue eyes keeping Dean’s green ones captive, until they wandered down to the human’s mouth just for a fraction of a second, which was enough for those mile-like inches to halve themselves, and their noses brushed, then, suddenly lips were on lips, not moving, not asking or taking, just touching. Neither dared to deepen the contact, but equally, neither dared to break it. Then, Dean’s eyes fluttered closed, and he went for it, pressing closer, mouth sliding against Cas’, which seemed to awaken something in Cas, and he imitated the chaste, closed-mouthed kiss once, twice… Eventually, he lifted his hands and rested them on Dean’s jaw, cradling his face, while Dean’s fingers wound themselves around Cas’ lapels, softly pulling at them, coaxing the angel to follow him as he fell back against the pillow, continuing to trade butterfly-light kisses, catch, hold, release... 

“Lay down with me,” Dean murmured onto Castiel’s lips. He felt relaxed, content, and now that a slight introduction to physical intimacy had finally happened, the words came so naturally he never even stopped to think. Above him Cas nodded eagerly, then rolled right over him in his haste to get horizontal. “Ouch, you’re heavy,” Dean groaned, although he didn't necessarily mind the weight on top of him, he just hadn't expected it. 

“Sorry, Dean,” Castiel smiled, settling down next to him, close enough to kiss, so he did, initiating for the first time. “I've wanted to do this for so long now,” he admitted in a whisper, caressing Dean's face with feather-light touches. 

“Since when?”

“You remember when I kissed Meg?”

“Hard not to, it was quite a performance.”

“It was a performance, alright... It must have been some time around there, because I only kissed her to see your reaction,” Castiel pouted, a sheepish look in his eyes. 

“So, you went all pizza man on her, because... you wanted me to be the babysitter in that equation?” Dean lifted his head.

“You have a talent for putting things a certain way, but essentially, yes.”

“Great, if you ever want to put it into practice...” a suggestive waggle of eyebrows followed, and Castiel chuckled dryly. 

“I will think about it, but for now, I'd like to remain Castiel and kiss you again, Dean.”

“By all means, proceed, Castiel,” Dean's voice dropped low as he leaned back onto the pillow, and his lips parted slightly in anticipation. The angel wasted no time, propping himself up on his elbow right above Dean and leaning in, the tip of his tongue tracing Dean's lips before diving in earnestly, and it was so much better than anything he'd had before. It was intoxicating and maddening. A shudder ran through both of them at the same time, and it left them breathless. 

Dean knew he was heading down a dangerous path. A few, mostly careful kisses and all his nerves felt raw, every inch of his body that Castiel was pressed right up against was on fire with awareness of the angel, and he had to press pause to gather his wits. Not wanting to break the moment completely, but also not wanting to proceed for fear of being consumed alive by whatever this was, he chose to talk instead, a first of his own.

“Seriously though, you've been wanting this for 10 years now?” he asked, fiddling with the corner of his sheets.

“For an angel, a decade feels a lot less in the grand scheme of things, plus the majority of the time, I had bigger fish to fry than to dwell on this, no matter how badly I wanted to be by your side, any way I could.” Castiel bit his bottom lip and seemed to make a decision to unload some weight. “I've known this was something else for longer than that. Ever since that alley, after you nearly said yes to Michael.”

“You mean when you beat me to a pulp?” Dean's eyes went wide, obvious even in the dim light. “That was an epiphany for you?” He sat up, heart suddenly racing for a completely different reason.

“Dean, I... I was angry, disappointed, confused and terrified. I lashed out at you because I didn't know what was going on with me. When you looked up at me, asking me to ‘do it’, I finally understood.” Castiel looked down, clearly ashamed to meet Dean's gaze. “Probably, it was something else before that already, I just didn't know.” 

“Well, shit,” Dean let out a low, sarcastic whistle. “Is that why you didn’t finish me?”

Castiel’s head snapped up. “No. I never even wanted to hurt you. I'm not proud of that…” he said, barely above a whisper. “It's not like any of this comes with a manual or a course called 'Emotions for rebellious angels 101',” he continued, staring directly into Dean's eyes, looking as though he was trying to convey everything he knew he couldn't say. Dean stood his gaze, defiant at first, angry and hurt, but gradually his face relaxed - and with the urge to fight gone, flight never having been an option, he lay down, tugging at Castiel's trench coat again. When the angel finally followed, his head resting next to Dean's on the pillow, Dean lifted a corner of the sheets, and wordlessly covered both of them with it as best as he could.

“You know what, looking back on it, I probably deserved at least part of it,” he broke the silence minutes later, reaching out to hold onto Castiel's shoulder. “I was a mess.”

“Maybe, but I should have tried talking to you first.”

“When have I ever listened to words, Cas?” Dean huffed, self-deprecation evident in his voice. Castiel, at an apparent loss for a fitting verbal answer to that, simply kissed him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The lyrics in this chapter are from Metallica's The Unforgiven trilogy, which is included in the soundtrack.


	7. Chapter 7

Dean woke up alone the next morning, but his first conscious thought was the fact that he had fallen asleep with Castiel in his bed, after they'd kissed, more than once. The second conscious thought was that the first one didn't fill him with panic as he would have expected.

His phone blinked at him with a low battery warning, and as he connected the charger, he realized it was nearly 10am, the latest he'd slept in weeks, if not months. Leaving the device on his nightstand, he put on his gray robe and walked to the kitchen in search of caffeine and breakfast. 

He set about making coffee first, and took a cautious sip of it as soon as it brewed. Of course, it was too hot and he hissed, so he set it aside while he dove into the depths of the fridge, then the freezer, trying to unearth anything edible. He'd hardly spent any time in the Bunker in recent weeks. Jack was more than happy to keep himself going with junk food on the occasions he ate and whatever toasted cardboard food Sam stocked up on during the vamp hunt in Waverly just wasn't going to cut it, so Dean settled onto a stool with his coffee, starting a mental shopping list for a massive supply run. He hadn’t gotten very far with it before someone joined him.

“Hey,” Dean looked up... and up at his brother. “Sammy, are you still growing?” he asked, fingers drumming on his mug.

“Maybe you're shrinking, jerk. After a certain age, people can lose a few inches,” Sam grinned, playfully punching his brother's shoulder. 

“Bite me, bitch, all my inches are right where they belong!” Dean shot back, raising an eyebrow in challenge. His lips twitched, and Sam rolled his eyes.

“Why do I have a feeling we're not just talking about height anymore...”

“Sam, you horndog, straight to below the belt...” Dean lost the fight against a straight face, grinning widely. Sam's expression in turn settled into one of his trademark glares, bitchface #7 if Dean remembered his own categories correctly.

“You're insufferable,” the younger Winchester huffed.

Schooling his expression to be slightly less gleeful, Dean pushed the carafe of coffee closer to his brother's end of the table, like a peace offering.

“Heard from Eileen recently?” At Sam's sharp intake of breath, Dean thought he’d ruined everything, but Sam grabbed a clean mug and settled onto the seat opposite Dean. 

“Yeah, we text every now and then.”

“How is she?”

“She says she's okay, but I have my doubts about it. I’m still reeling from the whole Chuck thing myself, and I've had a lot more practice with stuff like that.”

“No kidding,” Dean scoffed. “I just want to ice the bastard. I'm done with the small hunts for now, we need to focus on this.”

“What changed your mind?”

“Does it matter? I'm ready for some... research,” the older Winchester grimaced, knowing he was everything but ready for it. “Any of the feather squad around?”

“They left hours ago. Cas took Jack out to a museum. He was actually smiling this morning. Having the kid back seems to be doing him good.”

“Yeah,” Dean busied himself by draining the last of his coffee then refilling the mug. 

“Maybe the talk you two had last night also helped,” Sam said, a hint of uncertainty in his voice. Not surprisingly, the coffee Dean was about to swallow went down the wrong way and he coughed.

“What the hell, Sam, are you spying on us?”

“No, I'm just putting the puzzle pieces together. Something must have happened on the hunt, because you both had bees in your bonnets when you got back. Cas spent half the evening outside your door, until he wasn't there anymore, and Jack couldn't find him. He said he looked everywhere but your room...”

“Enough of 'The science of deduction', Holmes, pipe down. Yeah, we talked, Cas and me. We're cool.”

“Cas and you are... cool?” Sam repeated.

“How can you go from super-sleuth to parrot faster than my Baby goes 0 to 60?”

“You're such an ass.”

“Only because you keep provoking me into it.”

“Yeah, right, that must be it. It was a nice concert you gave yesterday, by the way...”

“Screw. You.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

“Hey,” Dean glanced up at Castiel for a moment, then went back to peeling potatoes. The angel didn't waste a single moment before crowding Dean's personal space, leaning in to give him a kiss – which landed on Dean's stubbled jaw instead of his mouth as planned, because the hunter completely missed the memo that he was about to be kissed. “What, no  _ 'hello Dean' _ today,” he imitated Castiel's usual greeting and his voice, “just straight into PDA?”

“I believe it is customary for couples to engage in displays of affection, like kissing, as a way of greeting.”

“ _ ‘Couples?’ _ Yeah, I ain't touching that even with a ten foot pole,” Dean bristled, watching the last piece of peel fall on top of the pile already on the counter. He could feel Castiel's confusion more than he could see it, and he knew the angel was having difficulties following what exactly it was that he wasn't going to touch, so he stepped away from him, and started rummaging around in the knife drawer. “Based on your preferred weapon, you're probably handy with blades in general. Wanna help cut these into fries?” He asked, motioning at the bowl of potatoes. 

“You want me to assist you in preparing food you know I will not indulge in?” Castiel quirked an inquisitive brow, in a slightly dryer tone than probably intended. 

“A simple  _ 'no' _ would've been enough,” Dean frowned in reply, but the expression turned upside down when the angel reached past him into the drawer and then started cutting the potatoes into even columns. They worked in silence for some time, but at one point Dean got distracted by Castiel's long, nimble fingers handling the blade with confidence that looked as natural as breathing. Well, natural to humans anyway. Those fingers, those hands put him back together, both figuratively and literally, more times than he could count, and now there they were, casually cutting potatoes...

“Dean?” The angel sounded concerned. “You've been staring at nothing for at least a minute now.”

“It was not nothing,” Dean assured him, and he dropped the knife onto the counter, grabbing Castiel's tie instead. “It's you,” he supplied as he pulled the angel closer, making him stumble, and mashed their mouths together. It was uncoordinated, frenzied, but it was also honest and that made up for the lack of technique. After they parted, Dean rested his forehead against Castiel's.

“Why now?” The angel asked quietly, taking a small step back. 

Dean's fingers tightened on the tie he'd been holding onto as if it was a lifeline. “You said we were real. I want to believe it.”

“Even if it ends in pain?” 

“Cas, everything I do ends there, eventually. There is always a bigger, heavier, smellier shoe waiting to drop. Holding back in fear of it doesn't make it any smaller, lighter or... or... “

“Less odoriferous?” Cas offered.

“Is that even a real word?”

“It is, indeed.”

“Sometimes you sound like you eat dictionaries and Victorian novels for breakfast,” Dean shook his head, grinning. 

Castiel's mouth settled into a careful half-smile, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. Part of him wanted to let it drop, to go with the mood change, to respond to Dean's banter in kind, but there was also a need for reassurance, both to give and to receive it. “We are as real as you allow us to be.” He traced Dean's plush, pink lips with the pad of his thumb, and he chuckled when Dean went cross-eyed in an attempt to follow the movement. “But I need to know how far you’re willing to go. Contrary to your belief, I am not a mind reader, and even if I was, you made it clear how much it would bother you if I intruded, so you’ll have to tell me. I believe communication is also customary for couples.”

“You’re throwing some awfully big words around…”

“Am I?” Castiel’s smile widened into a full blown one, but it melted off completely when Dean jumped back at the sound of nearing footsteps, and by the time Sam stepped into the kitchen with Jack in tow, there was a six feet distance between them. “I see,” Castiel murmured. He regretted the absence of their intimacy immensely, and excused himself as soon as he finished with the last potato. 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Having cleared the detritus of their meal in the kitchen, Dean walked over to the library and plopped down with an open beer in one hand, the rest of the six-pack in the other.

“Beer, anyone?” he asked. Jack reached out to take one, freezing when Dean gave him a withering stare. “Not you, kid.”

“You said  _ ‘anyone’ _ ,” Jack pouted, but he dropped his hand anyway.

“In all fairness, you did say ‘anyone’,” Sam pointed out while working on freeing a bottle from its cardboard confines, then went back to typing on his phone.

“Are you suggesting I give alcohol to a child?”

“I think that ship has sailed already, Dean.”

“Consistency is important when parenting,” Castiel joined in, also taking a beer before turning a page in the thick, old book in front of him.

“As long as one of you helps him into bed and gives him Tylenol if he gets drunk, to keep the hangover to a minimum,” Dean shrugged, begrudgingly passing a beer to Jack. 

“That must be some strong beer if one bottle gets him drunk.”

“Sam, what’s with the snarky ‘tude tonight?”

“The same as with your sudden Dad behavior,” Sam shot back, grinning at his scowling brother.

“Whatever, bitch,” Dean muttered and opened his well-thumbed Vonnegut novel. 

“Language!”

“I’ll give you language!”

“Maybe Jack’s not the child here…” Castiel rolled his eyes, but when they settled on his research again, they had an amused glint to them.

They read and sipped their drinks in comfortable calm until Sam let out a sudden chuckle, then cleared his throat, looking up from his phone. 

“Listen to this fun fact: 'The average person walks past a murderer about 36 times in their lifetime.' ”

“The same murderer 36 times, or 36 different ones?” Dean lifted his head, not missing a beat. Castiel was next, who of course went for the scientific approach, his brows furrowed as he spoke.

“I hardly think that's accurate, or even statistically measurable.”

“Why would they just walk past them and not stop them? Also, why is that fun?” Jack sounded utterly confused, his eyes round and wide as he contemplated the situation.

“Because, ideally, you don't get murdered by any of those 36, kiddo,” Dean explained with a grin and ruffled Jack's hair for a moment, then settled back to continue reading.

“Oh.”

“Jack, it’s not meant literally,” Sam smiled fondly at the nephilim.

“Oh,” Jack repeated. Then, a few quiet minutes passed before he spoke again. “When this is all over,” he didn't need to specify what he meant by 'all', “I would like to go to school. Maybe I can attempt de-aging myself so I don't stick out too much...” 

“We can fake some records for you, and look into high schools, maybe? You should be able to pass as a senior, maybe even a junior,” Sam said with thoughtful consideration. 

“And college boy here” Dean pointed at Sam, “will be delighted to help with your homework when it comes to that, because I sure as hell won't. I never did mine, won't do someone else's...”

“That’s a lie,” Sam shot back. “You always helped me with anything you could.”

“Which was less and less the older you got, Brainiac.”

“Maybe, but you kept faintly pre-writing words for me to practice until I stopped writing the letter S the wrong way around.”

“Yeah, I couldn’t let my baby brother be the class loser who can’t write his own name right…”


	8. Chapter 8

Dean parked the Impala in a clearing among the trees then texted the exact coordinates to Castiel, who was on his way back after meeting Claire wherever she’d just finished her hunt. His phone beeped with Cas’ reply almost immediately, as the angel confirmed he was only a few minutes away. 

A week had passed since their first kiss, but it was still their secret. Even Dean himself was getting twitchy about hiding things from Sam, but he wasn't ready yet to stop hiding them and tell his brother about… whatever this was. So, they'd agreed to meet at a comfortable distance away from the Bunker to have some uninterrupted time, and Castiel had played along, although Dean could feel the angel's irritation through the phone. 

While waiting, Dean climbed onto the Impala's hood and leaned against her windshield, looking up at the night sky. In the distance, it was starting to cloud over, swirls covering up the stars. There would be rain soon, Dean knew.

Castiel arrived not long after and brought his truck to a stop next to the Impala. 

“Hello, Dean.”

“Hey,” Dean patted the still engine-warm metal next to him, then crossed his arms over his chest. “How’s Claire?”

“She has a few cuts and bruises from a ghoul, but she’s fine. She’s probably back at Jody’s by now, with the others,” Castiel said as he joined Dean on the hood. 

“The Jody Mills supernatural orphanage… None of those girls should know about things going bump in the dark,” Dean sighed. “Do you ever wonder how different things could be?” 

“If only this or that happened differently?” Castiel scoffed, fidgeting as he tried to get comfortable. “That's a slippery slope, and you know it,” he continued, finally settling down next to Dean with a knee bent and an arm folded to cushion the back of his head, their shoulders touching.

“Don't scratch her – ” Dean warned.

“Or your wrath will rain down upon my head, I know.” If ever there was a verbal eye-roll, this was it.

“I was going to say 'or I will kick your ass', but I guess yours works too.”

An owl hooted in the distance, and for some reason, Dean hooted right back with a shit-eating grin. 

“You do realize you just told that owl to 'fuck off', right?” Castiel stared straight ahead, his face blank. Dean's smirk was replaced with an expression that was half disbelief, half awe and he shifted onto his side to look at the angel.

“When you say shit like that, I never know if you're joking or not. You are joking, right?”

“Maybe,” Castiel shrugged, not confirming or denying anything. 

“It's weird to hear you swear.”

“Technically, I didn't swear, I was quoting,” the angel pointed out. “Profanity doesn't have the same cathartic effect for me as it does for you. I believe in the power of words, but designating certain expressions as wrong and even forbidden is not a concept that ever made sense to me.”

“Which ones make sense to you, then?”

“Righteous and evil.” Dean snorted, and Castiel leveled him with a disapproving look. “We're talking concepts, Dean. I am aware now that everything is shades of gray and neither of those exists in its pure form, but I still believe in them as basic ideas. I still try to see the righteous in everything that has even a shred of it, naive as it may be.”

“Sometimes I envy the way you see things,” the hunter sighed. 

“And sometimes I wish you saw them as I do. Certain things at the very least. Certain people. You're – “ 

Dean sensed the impending danger of whatever Castiel was about to say and he stopped the angel with a kiss, caressing those chapped lips with his own, long enough to make him lose his train of thought. His hands moved to Castiel's face, tilting his head to change the angle in order to kiss him deeper still.

“What are you doing?” 

“Where I come from, this is called making out. Not sure what it would be in Enochian...”

“I think it's called 'deflection' actually,” Castiel deadpanned, and Dean groaned. “One of these days you will let me finish that sentence.”

“I don't do chick-flick moments, Cas.” 

The angel let out a scoff that clearly expressed his thoughts about that, but didn't argue further. If Dean wanted to fool himself that kissing on the hood of a car under the night sky wasn't a chick-flick moment, he could have it, just as long as the kissing continued. And continue it did, slowly and tenderly, even when an expected light drizzle arrived, gradually filling the air with petrichor. 


	9. Chapter 9

Castiel threw his head back, panting hard. Dean's kisses were growing heated, his touches possessive, and it was too much and not enough at the same time. As he tried to hold onto his sanity, Dean started to unbutton his shirt, kissing the skin he'd freed the second he could, inching his way down his chest. Castiel moaned loudly as Dean's lips found his nipple, closing over the nub to lick it playfully. 

“Shh, keep it down, Cas,” Dean clamped his hand over Castiel's mouth. Footsteps sounded on the corridor, passing by the door. The heat of arousal disappeared quickly and it left the angel feeling empty. 

“We can’t keep doing this until the end of time,” he announced a moment later, trying to extricate himself from halfway underneath Dean. 

“I think I could easily keep doing it even longer than that,” Dean raised his eyebrow, and to prove his point, he dove in to kiss the angel long enough to make him gasp for air once they parted.

“That’s not what I meant,” Castiel attempted to move away again, and this time Dean let him. “It’s been weeks now. We can’t sneak around like this forever, like it’s wrong, like this is something that has to be kept secret.”

“It's not a secret, I'm just not ready for Sam to know yet.”

“Semantics. I want to be able to touch you when I want to, and not care about who might see it.”

“If you want someone to watch, that can be arranged,” Dean quipped, but the second the last word left his mouth, he obviously realized that this was not the right time to joke about voyeurism. Castiel’s eyes went stormy dark, lips setting themselves into a single hard line.

“You are truly infuriating, Dean Winchester. Having known you for years, I thought I knew what I was getting myself into, but I am in over my head, and clearly, so are you, ” the angel paused, waiting for a reply, a denial, but none came. He buttoned up his shirt – he was aware that Dean watched his movements intently but he didn't try to stop them. With a weary sigh, Castiel collected the items of clothing he’d piled onto the end of the bed prior to climbing into it with Dean, and padded out of the room, the door closing behind him with a faint click. 

Once outside, Castiel stood with his eyes fixed on it, willing it to open, even though he knew deep down it wouldn’t. A minute later, as he was still not proven wrong, he pulled on his trench coat, suit jacket hanging limp from his hand, and left the bunker.

Inside the room, Dean remained unmoving. “Son of a bitch,” he mumbled, staring at the spot Castiel had just vacated. He couldn’t quite understand how things had gone from leisurely making-out to… whatever that was. A dull ache was forming behind his eyes, which, coupled with the weight of the argument heavy and nearly physical in his stomach, didn’t look too promising for sleep. Hours of tossing and turning later, he admitted defeat and got out of bed. On his way towards the kitchen, he stopped to check Castiel’s room, but there was no sign of the angel, and Dean hated himself for feeling some relief mixed in with the disappointment. He couldn’t see any way in which he could have made his predicament with the angel any worse, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t any, so while he couldn’t try to make it better, at least he couldn’t damage their fledgling intimacy even further. 

He found Sam in the kitchen, obviously fresh from his daily self-torture session he insisted on calling a morning jog, an industrial-sized water bottle in his hand. 

“You’re up early,” Sam commented, taking in his disheveled, about-to-fall-asleep brother. 

“Yeah, couldn’t sleep,” Dean shrugged. “Uh, have you seen Cas today by any chance?” he tried to sound nonchalant, occupying his hands by filling a mug with leftover coffee from the day before.

“No. Was he here?”

“He was supposed to be…” which, strictly speaking, wasn’t a lie, the older Winchester told himself.

“Try to call him.”

“That, uh… that won’t work.” Dean couldn’t even look at his brother, yet he was sure Sam knew something was going on. 

“Text him then,” Sam offered, then left to have a shower, before Dean even had a chance to react. Pondering his options, he swiped Sam's phone off the kitchen table and used it to send Castiel a message.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

“Dude, did you use my phone?” Sam asked, waving the device in Dean's face. 

“It was right there, and I didn't have mine on me,” the older Winchester replied with a shrug. “It's not a big deal, I don't know why you think it warrants bitchface #5...”

“Dean,” Sam let out an indignant huff. “What have you done?”

“What the fuck do you mean 'what have I done', I didn't do a damn thing!”

“Cas is pissed at you though, isn't he? That's why you texted him from my phone and not yours.”

Dean groaned. He hated when Sam was this perceptive, and he really did not feel like talking about it, so he surprised even himself when the next sentence that left his mouth was “I may have screwed up.“

“Shocking,” Sam shook his head. There was sarcasm in his voice, but also fondness, and he punched Dean's shoulder, just hard enough to make him feel it. “I told you before. Call him.”

“Sam, you know I can hold a wet bar of soap better than a conversation. Especially with Cas.”

“A rare moment of self-critique, wow. There may be hope for you still,” Sam teased.

“Fuck off.”

“Seriously, Dean,” Sam let out an exasperated groan. ”At least text him. Preferably from your own damn phone this time.”

“Did he reply to the message I sent him earlier?”

“He did. You're definitely in the doghouse. Fix it.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Fixing it proved harder than Dean thought it was going to be. He texted Cas at least once a day, alternating between random bits of information like _“We ganked a pack of pureblood werewolves today”_ or _“Jack made breakfast this morning, and the eggs were edible for the first time”_ , and various iterations of _“At least let me know you’re okay, man”_ , but they all went unanswered. It was especially infuriating because Dean knew that Castiel was in regular contact with Jack and probably with Sam too.

Then, one evening, full of frustration, he tried to call him instead of texting. The call went straight to voicemail – not that he expected anything different – and for once in his life, he swallowed his rising anger with a deep sigh, then disconnected without leaving a message. 

His phone buzzed with an incoming text message about 10 minutes later - _“Hello, Dean.”_.


	10. Chapter 10

Sleepily rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand, Dean stepped into the kitchen in search of coffee. He grunted something that could have been a  _ “g’morning” _ at Sam, who was sitting at the table with a bowl of corn flakes, and turned towards the kitchen counter, only to find Castiel leaning against it casually. Surprise and longing ran through him like an electric jolt. It had been almost two weeks since he’d last seen him, the longest separation since their first kiss and it was not by Dean’s choice either. Before his brain could have prevented him from doing it, Dean found himself pressed right up against Castiel, desperately kissing the angel, both hands buried in his dark hair. 

Castiel gasped in surprise, having barely had a chance to even process Dean’s presence, much less anything after, but then he deepened the kiss by plunging his tongue into the man’s mouth, and while he was vaguely aware that unless Sam left, he must have seen it all, he found that he hardly even cared. Clearly, neither did Dean, because he didn’t move away, didn’t stop kissing him.

This was where Sam finally broke out of his stupor, having gone from mild surprise through full-on shock to utter mortification, and he escaped the kitchen hastily, leaving his half-eaten breakfast behind.  _ “So this was what crawled up Dean’s ass and died the last few days,” _ he thought, then cursed himself for the inappropriately fitting figure of speech.

The couple in the kitchen was completely uninterested in Sam’s struggle to un-see what he’d just witnessed. Knowing that his brother wasn’t in the room anymore, Dean grabbed Castiel’s rear and lifted him onto the counter, the angel readily allowing himself to be manhandled. 

After a few minutes of making-out, their feverish reunion calmed down considerably, the kisses now lazy and languid. As Castiel's brain functions slowly returned, he found himself wanting answers.

“What do you think you’re doing?” His voice was rough, reminding Dean of how it used to be when they first met, like gravel under a thin layer of silk.

“Maybe I decided that I will just touch you when I want to, no matter who’s watching.” Dean proffered simply, hoping it was going to be enough.

“I see,” Castiel said dryly, the fog clouding his judgment wholly dissipated, and he untangled his limbs from around Dean, but didn't pull away completely. 

Dean knew then that he was not off the hook, and he steeled himself. “Cas, I –” he began, but the words got stuck in his throat. 

“Yes?” Castiel clearly wasn't going to make it easier on him, blue eyes icy and fixed on Dean's green ones. Seconds, maybe even minutes ticked by, and even though Castiel's gaze softened gradually, he still didn't say anything. 

“I wasn't trying to hide you,” Dean croaked eventually, and turned away from the angel. “I was trying to hide myself. Or at least the part of myself that's required for... this.”

Castiel nodded, even though Dean could not see it.

“The part that cares?” Castiel prompted when the pause got unbearably long. 

“Ye – no,” Dean took a deep breath, deciding against taking the easy way out. “The part that cares like... that.” Even with his back turned, he knew Castiel was confusedly tilting his head in one of the very few mannerisms he kept unchanged throughout the years since meeting Dean in that ramshackle barn. When he finally faced the angel again, he could see that he was right. He cleared his throat. “Like that,” he repeated, vaguely pointing at Castiel's lap then moving his hand back and forth between them, but the angel just tilted his head even further. Realizing that he’d have to spell it out, Dean let out an irritated groan. “Fuck, I am too sober for this.” Muttering faintly, he went to rummage around in the cabinets for whiskey, then, upon finding all of his usual spots empty, grabbed a beer from the fridge. 

“Dean, it's –”

“Five in the afternoon, somewhere,” he popped the cap and took a hearty gulp. “You're a dude.”

“I am an angel, although technically I am currently sort of... a 'dude' as you put it,” Castiel conceded with a squint, but it was obvious that he still didn't quite understand what Dean was trying to say. The hunter let out another groan and downed the remainder of his beer, running his hand through his hair in exasperation. Suddenly, Castiel's eyes lit up and the angel jumped off the counter, stepping closer to Dean. “You're upset because you desire me, even though I am in a male body.”

“You gotta stop saying shit like that out loud,” Dean hissed, his whole body feeling aflame with a flash of said desire all of a sudden. 

“You're afraid that people will think of you differently once they learn that you're in a sexual relationship with someone who, to the casual observer, seems to be of your own sex.” Castiel sounded like rumbling thunder in the distance.

“I'm having trouble forcing myself to not think about myself differently, okay?” Dean shouted finally, voice an octave higher than it was at the beginning of the conversation.

“Would you prefer I tried to find a female body?”

“C’mon, you're not actually thinking of taking over some poor woman to please me?!”

Castiel shook his head and swept a hand down his front. “This is part of who I am now,” he said quietly, only realizing how true it was after the words left his mouth. 

“Good. Because I like who you are now.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

“What was that about earlier?” Sam asked, aiming for nonchalance. 

“It's none of your business,” Dean went from 0 to 100 immediately, his voice threatening, like the growl of an animal, and he slammed the fridge door closed, knuckles turning white around the neck of the bottle in his hand as he turned to look at his brother. 

“Dude, you basically went to second base with him.  _ In front of me _ , no less, and you're trying to tell me it's  _ 'not my business' _ . I will never be able to scrub that scene from my memory, so I think the least I deserve is an explanation.”

“Sam. Leave. It.” 

The younger Winchester's eyes flashed dark with annoyance.

“I'm not expecting any soul-baring revelations here, but I could really do with a shred of honesty out of you,” he hissed. “What on earth is going on with you and Cas?”

Dean knew he was about a second away from snapping and doing something he'd bitterly regret later, and Sam seemed to realize the same, because he huffed and the scowl on his face eased up.

“Dean. You're my brother, and to me, Cas is like one, too. I am not asking because I want to make you uncomfortable, or to take revenge for seeing you play tonsil hockey with him...”

“Actually, Cas was the one who –” Dean interrupted, his anger gone as quickly as it rose, and he even grinned at Sam's horrified expression.

“First of all, TMI, dude, second of all, so not my point,” he groaned. 

“Oh, there's a point?”

“Point is, I'm okay if the both of you are okay too, but I really don't want to be stuck in a feud between the two of you if whatever you're doing goes sideways.”

“Gee Sam, thanks for the vote of confidence,” Dean rolled his eyes, suddenly weary. He sank onto the floor, leaning back against the cold metal of the fridge, head hanging low.

“Okay, that... that wasn't quite where I wanted to go with this,” Sam admitted quietly after some silence. “I'm sorry.”

“Yeah, don't sweat it.”

“No, it was uncalled for,” Sam shook his head and sat down right next to his brother. “I'm not important in this equation. I  _ am _ a little freaked out, not gonna lie, but I'm sure that's nothing compared to what's going on with you.”

“It's a mess,” Dean agreed, turning to look at Sam. Those damn puppy eyes appeared, just as he thought they would; asking him to continue, but he remained silent. Eventually, Sam gave up and spoke.

“I just want both of you to be happy, or... content, at least. How or why, doesn't really matter, I hope you know that.”

“I know.”

“Okay. Now that I removed that foot I put into my mouth... Do you want to tell me what's going on?”

“Nope.”

“Thought so,” Sam chuckled dryly. “For what it's worth, I'm happy you got your head out of your ass, and if you change your mind about that talk, I'm here,” he patted his brother's shoulder and stood up to leave. 

“Thanks, Sammy.”

“Oh, before I forget. If you force me to see anything you and Cas do above a PG rating again, I will flush the Impala's keys down the toilet.”

“SAM!”

“I mean it. The spare set, too.  _ And, _ if I find out that you two desecrated any common use surface, including but not limited to the kitchen counter or the map table, I will find a way to make you drive a powder pink Prius for the rest of your life.”

Dean groaned, swiped a kitchen towel off the counter and threw it at Sam's back. 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Dean watched in silent surprise as Castiel stuffed a slice of cucumber into his mouth, then a second, followed by a third... and he was chewing them with the shine of bliss on his face.

“Really, Cas?” 

“Hm?” The angel hummed around the mouthful of cucumber in reply. 

“You're eating. You don't eat.”

“Usually everything tastes like molecules, but this smells so good, I thought it would taste nice, and it does.”

“You can actually taste it? And you're liking it, too?” Dean grimaced. Castiel nodded, and continued munching. “Okay, so either cucumbers, of all things, are approved for angel consumption, or something is hinky.”

“Hinky?”

“Hinky. Wrong. Like when Famine turned you into the Hamburglar,” Dean supplied as he tried to swallow his unease. “Do you think it’s because your powers are failing?”

Cas shuddered, making Dean wish he'd worded it slightly less bluntly, but when the angel spoke, he sounded entirely unaffected. 

“It's possible. But I am not sure, and I don't think knowing the cause makes any difference...” 

“Cas, when Jack lost his powers, he –“ Dean's voice wavered, not quite wanting to finish that sentence. 

“That was different. We can't compare apples to oranges.”

Castiel seemed intent on brushing it off, and Dean decided to indulge him. For now.

“While we're talking about food, is there anything else that smells nice?” He asked instead, hand sweeping over the spread of ingredients on the counter: grilled chicken chunks, avocado and pepper slices, cheese, crispy bacon, cherry tomatoes, tortilla wraps. 

Castiel shook his head, but begrudgingly ate a bite of each at Dean's insistence. Out of all the things, he found bacon to taste the least of molecules and most like the complete flavor.

“Bacon is officially approved angel food,” Dean grinned widely when Castiel shared his findings, and the angel didn't make the effort to point out that it still didn't taste very nice. Spurred on by this discovery, Dean made him try a bite of everything edible they had in the Bunker, including peanut butter and jelly, which, to Castiel's utter disappointment, still tasted actively awful. 


	11. Chapter 11

Sam stopped in his tracks and leaned against the door-frame, watching Dean and Castiel in the kitchen. Both stood next to the stove, a pan in front of each, Dean's with bacon sizzling in it, Castiel's with scrambled eggs that he was stirring with a wooden spatula. Dean was quietly explaining something, and the angel nodded earnestly, then moved to turn off his burner. A few seconds later, Dean did the same, moving the bacon slices onto a paper-towel covered plate, and he leaned in to nuzzle Castiel's face for a moment, pressing a quick kiss onto the corner of his mouth.

“It's rude to stare at people, Sam,” Dean called out, suddenly turning to glance at his brother. Sam sputtered indignantly and prepared to point out that Dean just kissed the worst offender of staring while being the second-worst himself, but he noticed that Dean looked happy - honestly happy; even his eyes twinkled, so he decided to cherish the rare moment and let it slide. 

“Good morning to you too, turtledoves,” he said instead, and let out a huff of laughter when Dean rolled his eyes. 

“We made breakfast,” Castiel pointed out the obvious, gesturing with the spatula. “There's enough for you to have some, too.”

Dean shook his head with mock exasperation and took the utensil from his angel. 

“Sam doesn't eat any of this, Cas. It's not rabbit food.”

“Actually, it smells pretty good,” Sam shrugged. He didn't really want bacon, but he supposed having some eggs couldn't hurt. 

Castiel shot a look at Dean that shouted  _ 'told you so' _ then turned towards Jack who had just ambled in then, barefoot and wearing pyjamas with cartoon hamburgers and pizza slices on them, honey blonde hair in a messy bedhead. “How about you, would you like some?” 

“No, thank you,” Jack replied as he dug around in the cupboards for the biggest breakfast bowl available, which he then filled with cereal, pouring a generous amount of milk on top. Castiel in the meantime plated three portions of eggs, passing the largest of it off to Dean and a slightly smaller one to Sam, keeping only a few forkfuls for himself.

Sam accepted his plate with a nod, and sat down on one of the seats, gaze fixed on Dean, who retrieved 4 slices of golden brown bread from the toaster and the butter dish from the counter. 

“Take a picture, it lasts longer,” the older Winchester grumbled as he placed the items onto the table then went back to bring the bacon over, too. “Bitch.”

“Jerk,” Sam responded without missing a beat, reaching for a slice of toast. Castiel raised his eyebrows in confusion, until he remembered that this was just a Winchester ritual, and he muttered “Assbutt” under his breath, making Dean guffaw. Jack munched his cereal happily, eyes bouncing from one person to the other as he chewed with gusto. 

After that, they ate mostly quietly, and Dean sneakily deposited a forkful of bacon on Castiel's toast with a wide grin. The angel rolled his eyes, but in reality, the small gesture warmed him through, head to toe, and he stuffed the bite into his mouth.

“Okay fellas, I cooked, you can take care of the rest,” Dean announced cheerfully when they finished the meal, and not waiting for an answer, waltzed right out of the kitchen with his coffee mug in his hand. 

“Dean, wait, I have a question about cars,” Jack jumped up and ran after him, every bit like the rambunctious toddler he should be at his actual age.

“Scrambling some eggs and frying a few slices of bacon is not cooking...” Sam groused, but moved to clear the table without any further complaints. He picked up Castiel's plate first, which was empty save for a few crumbs of toast. “You actually ate. Again. And not cucumbers this time.” At Castiel's questioning look, he added, “Dean told me about the other evening.”

“I found that if I focus, I can reconstruct the flavor of some things I tasted before quite decently.” The angel gathered the used utensils but remained seated.

“That sounds like a lot of effort for 3 bites of scrambled eggs and half a slice of buttered toast.”

“I also had a bite of bacon off of Dean's plate,” Castiel offered, like that made all the difference. Sam shook his head in disbelief, wondering how he’d missed that, especially knowing that Dean probably wouldn’t give up even a morsel of bacon without a fight. He was just about to ask when Castiel continued. “He looked so... carefree, I didn't want to sour the mood.”

“Don't I know that feeling,“ Sam smiled wistfully. Suddenly, it became really important that he put the butter back into the fridge, so he could be on the complete opposite end of the kitchen when he opened his mouth again. “Are you... the two of you... okay?”

“I guess, but it's Dean we're talking about, so anything and its exact contradiction could be true, possibly at the same time,” it was Castiel's turn to smile, but he couldn’t hide the edge of regretful longing present both in his words and on his face. “I enjoy being with him, but sometimes I am not sure he likes having me around,” he finished, quietly enough that Sam could feasibly ignore it, pretend that he hadn't heard it, and the younger Winchester wanted to ignore it, itched to do so. There was a line in sharing and caring, even for Sam, and telling an angel that his idiot of an older brother definitely liked having said angel around was way beyond it. One look at the dejected slump of Castiel's shoulders however, and Sam found himself on a stool, facing the angel.

“He does, Cas,” he confirmed, trying to sound as absolute and reassuring as possible. “You know Dean, he's complicated.” Castiel let out a noise that Sam could only describe as a sarcastic snort, and he threw a surprised glance at the celestial being. “He is full of emotions, strong ones too, but he's... well, not best-equipped to deal with them. Years ago, he'd hide behind sarcasm, more recently it's mostly anger.”

“Sam, I'm aware of all that. I'm an angel, and every time I look at him with my true eyes, I see his soul,” Castiel remarked, pointedly ignoring the fact that it was becoming harder to do so with every passing day. “I know the anger is what you'd call a 'coping mechanism', but I can't see what he's trying to cope with by using it.”

'Fear, worry, self-loathing, love,' Sam thought, but all he said out loud was “It's not my place to say; I can tell you one thing though. He most definitely likes having you around,” he squeezed the angel's shoulder and left. 

Castiel remained seated, intently staring at a crumb of toast on the table, as if it was a crystal ball, ready to answer all his questions.


	12. Chapter 12

“Where do you think you're going?”

Castiel flinched at the unexpected sound of Dean’s voice coming from behind him. He wasn’t actively trying to sneak out per se, but he also didn’t feel like saying goodbye before finally giving in to the restlessness that had been growing stronger for days. With a shaky exhale, he turned around.

“I - ” he trailed off at the sight of Dean, his determination to leave suddenly broken.

“Stay,” Dean grabbed the angel's wrist, pulling him back. “Please stay.” Briefly, he let go, but then he took Castiel's hand into his, lacing their fingers together. 

Castiel's heart was racing as he looked down on their joined hands. They had kissed, gone a little further even, but this – this felt like the most intimate thing they have ever done, unexpected and exhilarating. Time seemed to stand still as they both grappled with everything going on.

“I'm stopping you, now,” Dean continued hoarsely. “I don't even know where you stay when you're not around.”

“Here and there,” Castiel replied, non-committal. Suddenly, he was wondering why he ended up leaving, over and over. Dean may have been running from him in the metaphorical sense of the expression, closing himself off; but he was the one doing the physical running, leaving every time, even at times like after the showdown at Stull… Times when he could tell Dean wanted him to stay, he'd just never say it out loud. It had been easier to follow the misguided sense of duty than to take what he really wanted, to sit still, to take every moment of proximity Dean was willing to offer, but not anymore. To ground himself, he squeezed Dean's hand and let his thumb caress the calloused knuckles. 

Something flashed on Dean's face too quickly for Cas to recognize. “I'm tired of watching you go. Of  _ letting _ you go,” Dean said finally, an expression of earnest determination settling on his features.

Castiel took a deep breath. “I was too afraid to commit fully. I should have stayed with you, but I felt responsible for Heaven, even after they decided I am not theirs anymore. I wanted to feel useful.”

“You don’t have to be useful. Just be here.” Dean squeezed Castiel’s drooping shoulder with his free hand. “Come with me, I want to show you something.”

Castiel allowed himself to be led out of the library and into Dean’s bedroom. Looking around, he couldn't help but notice the changes. An additional nightstand had appeared next to the bed, on top of it a lamp that had a brighter bulb than the one on the other side, and a second pillow in a crisp white pillowcase rested on the mattress. He didn't miss the implications of this, and his heart clenched. He must tell Dean about the deal... he'd tell him, but couldn't; not yet. He was playing with fire, but the desperate yearning was strong, and when Dean turned to stare at him in a clear, coy invitation, lust entered the equation also, thickening the air. Castiel knew that this was it, that he was going to give in for another round of the game and he stared right back.

“Shoes off. Trust me, you’ll be grateful later,” Dean grinned, kicking off his boots.

In reply, Castiel toed off his shoes also and grabbed hold of Dean's hands, pulling at them until they were resting on his chest.

“Touch me,” Castiel whispered. Dean’s green eyes flashed with hunger and he pushed Castiel onto the bed until he sprawled out on his back, then moved to straddle the angel, a hand on either side of his head and and a knee on either side of his hips - provocatively close, but not yet touching, anticipation nearly palpable between them. Eventually Castiel's resolve broke, and his head fell back slightly as his breath hitched.

“Do. Not. Move.” Dean growled, capturing one of the angel's wrists, then the other, lifting them above his head and pressing them into the pillows, firmly but not painfully. Holding them in place, he dipped down to graze his teeth against the taut line of Castiel's neck, reveling in the shiver that ran through both of them just from that merest hint of a touch, then he moved away and let go of Cas' wrists. Torturous seconds passed without further contact, Dean was intentionally pushing both himself and his angel, staring into the celestial being's eyes, pupils blown wide with lust already. This time it was Dean who gave up, and finally, he pressed his hips into Castiel's, slowly rolling against him in a small circle, barely able to suppress a moan. The friction was delicious even through multiple layers of clothing, and Castiel instinctively tried to move with his lover, eager to get more of it, but all he got was a pointed look from Dean and a temporary halt of any movement. 

“It's my show tonight, Castiel,” Dean said in a sultry voice, and that, combined with the use of his full name, told the angel everything he needed to know. Yet, he could not help but play with fire a little bit, and managed to buck his hips in a few seconds' worth of control, but then Dean pushed him back down onto the bed, and suddenly lips, tongue and teeth were working in unison on the skin above his pulse point, tasting, sucking, biting, marking... Once Dean was satisfied with his handiwork, he started kissing Castiel, licking his way past his lips into his mouth, just on the right side of rough; messy and filthy, the angel all but purring underneath him.

When they both had to come up for air, Dean sat back on his heels, just watching Castiel. Even fully dressed, he was the very image of sex for Dean: arms still raised above his head obediently, eyes shining with desire, lips red, spit-slick and swollen, a blooming hickey on his throat, the un-tucked white dress shirt stretched skintight on his upper body, and a delightfully promising bulge just a few inches below his belt. He could see the effort the angel made to stay still as instructed, to not give in and throw himself into the game, even though his whole being shook with the want and need of it.

“Dean,” Castiel moaned, the intense gaze of the hunter too much to handle.

“I'm right here, gotcha,” Dean's hands moved to pop a button on his lover's shirt. “Gotcha,” he repeated, popping another button. “Beautiful,” another button went. “Mine,” yet another. “Castiel,” his voice dropped low and husky as he undid the last button, and the halves of the shirt obeyed the laws of gravity, opening just enough to reveal Castiel's flat stomach and parts of the Enochian warding tattoo right below his ribs. The angel drew a shaky breath, and arched his back off the bed, knowing that this would open his shirt further, and when it did, he was rewarded by calloused, warm, eager hands roaming his bare chest, playfully caressing his nipples... “Don't think I didn't see what you just did,” Dean hissed with mock anger, and pinched one of the nubs. “Sneaky,” he murmured, giving the same treatment to the other one, grinning at the guttural sounds the angel made. “You may move to take off your shirt, but nothing else, I am watching you.”

“I was hoping you would be...” Castiel flirted, looking up at Dean from below half-lowered lashes, and he sat up to shrug off the shirt, carelessly dropping it on the floor, then fell back against the pillow, raising his arms back into their original position above his head, watching Dean's eyes go darker with lust. He didn't mind the pretense of being at Dean's mercy, because he knew that in reality, they were both equally in control of each other and not, at the same time. “Well, come on then...” he waggled his eyebrows suggestively, a movement he learned entirely from Dean, and it made the hunter chuckle faintly. 

“I will come when I want to...” Dean replied. With a smirk, he pulled his t-shirt over his head and lay down on top of the angel, kissing first his mouth, then along his jaw, down onto his neck, following the raised line of his collarbone and while his lips wandered upwards on Castiel's arms, his hands found their way around the angel, pulling him closer, chests flush against each other. “Mine” he murmured into Cas' ear, and knowing that this basically meant 'I love you' in Dean's language, the angel turned to whisper “Yours” into Dean's shoulder, aching to wrap his arms around him, but continuing to play along instead. He closed his eyes and enjoyed the sensations, gasping when Dean started rubbing against him, arousal flaring up again, blood rushing southward, leaving him light-headed. Spurred on by pure need rather than conscious thought, he spread his legs as much as he could with Dean's thighs right next to his, and while it did result in a playful bite on his lower lip, it also allowed more contact, more friction, more of Dean, and that was worth it; it always had been. 

Dean mumbled something under his breath, and Castiel thought he’d finally decided to speed things along, because he went back to kissing him to within an inch of his life and slid his hand down between them, fingers brushing against both their erections. The angel arched off the bed yet again, completely instinctively, and the escaping gasp made Dean grin. “Oh you like that, don't you?” he teased, fist trying to close around Castiel's cock for a second, then letting go, grabbing hold of his hipbone instead. “Still, I don't remember telling you to move,” he caught the angel's bottom lip between his teeth once more and pulled at it, making Cas hiss, then ran his tongue over it soothingly, licking his way into Castiel's mouth, engaging him in a messy kiss. Teasing, he rolled his hips excruciatingly slowly, full weight pressing the angel into the mattress underneath, eliciting another throaty moan, dirty and erotic. 

“This... isn't funny, Dean.”

“Oh,  _ I’m _ having fun,” Dean countered. He trailed his hand down to give Castiel's erection a lazy tug, his wrist twisting slightly on the way up, and while the angel's reaction was enjoyable, it was getting a bit uncomfortable with all the unnecessary layers. “Lift up,” Dean instructed with a smirk, and moved off the angel's lap. Castiel obeyed eagerly, canting his hips, allowing Dean to remove both his slacks and his underwear in one swift move. 

“Hallelujah,” the angel muttered sarcastically, but all his faculties stopped working when Dean rubbed into him, the touch of the rough denim on his bare skin a tasty mix of pain and pleasure. Another thrust followed, faster this time, and Castiel keened shamelessly. Then, there were hands on his thighs, pushing them apart, and he happily spread them, offering Dean any access he wanted. Dean took it and settled down on his knees between the angel's legs. He flashed a wide grin at him, then he wrapped his lips around the head of Castiel's cock, going down as far as possible, agonizingly slowly.

The angel nearly jackknifed off the bed, and Dean wondered for a moment if this was the first time someone had gone down on him. Storing the question for later, he hummed, knowing full well that the vibrations were going to be delightful, so he was prepared when Castiel bucked his hips, and he held the angel in place. He stayed down as long as he could, then lifted his head, pacing himself, not in any rush. For a moment, he regretted denying Castiel the use of his hands as he really would have enjoyed having those long fingers in his hair, pulling at it as the angel guided him, trying to dictate the tempo; but knowing that a powerful celestial being was obediently holding his arms immobile above his head just because Dean had asked him to appealed to an entirely different part of him. 

Bobbing up and down, he could tell that Castiel was having fun, judging by the mumbled Enochian falling from his lips, and he had to be mindful not to push him too far and finish too quickly, yet he went back again and again, the words 'just once more' echoing in his head. Having the angel's cock in his mouth was a strange experience, undignified but empowering at the same time, and he was enjoying it a lot more than he'd ever have thought. He barely even registered his own needs, although he was aching for release. Feeling adventurous, he relaxed his throat, taking Castiel all the way in. It was daunting, a peculiar sensation, but the way the angel moaned his name, loud enough to be heard in the high heavens made it worth the slight discomfort. Eventually, the need to breathe won out and he pulled off, gulping in lungfuls of air. Castiel whined at the loss of contact, and he gazed at Dean with a desperate expression when he moved off the bed.

“I'm not going anywhere, Cas, but these are,” he snickered, pointing to his jeans, and he shed them quickly, retaking his well-earned place between Castiel's legs as soon as he was naked. He sat back on his heels for a moment, a chance both to stare at Cas and for the angel to return the favor. 

“Damn it, Dean,” Castiel groaned when he deemed the pause too long. 

“So impatient,” Dean chuckled, but he took mercy on the angel and ran his hands up his body.

“I am this close to stopping your charade, and just taking what I want.”

“Is that right, Castiel?” Dean's voice seemingly dropped another octave, and it made Cas shiver. One of Dean's hands slithered up to the angel's fingers wound tightly into the pillowcase and held onto them, while the other snuck down to their erections, grabbing both at the same time, giving them a fast and dirty tug. “I thought angels weren't allowed to want anything.”

“Maybe –” Castiel gasped as Dean's hand on their cocks moved again, “maybe I'm a special one.”

“Or maybe I'm good enough to seduce even an angel,” Dean supplied, and swallowed any reply Castiel was about to give with a hungry kiss. There wasn't much talking after that as they descended into breathless moans and half-choked utterances of each other's names, with Dean alternately stroking them and rubbing himself against Cas' body until they stopped even kissing, all their effort needed to keep rhythm with each other.

To Dean's delight, Castiel was the one to come first, but the thought of having gotten the angel off had him following mere seconds after. Descending from the high of his orgasm, he fell on top of Castiel in a sated daze, pliant, still and warm. Almost immediately, he was wrapped up in the angel's arms, and a cool flash of grace between their stomachs made the mess they'd created disappear.

“You shouldn't be using your powers for something so unnecessary,” Dean grumbled.

“If me using them to clean up semen...”

“Ew, Cas, words...”

“Semen,” Cas repeated sternly, ignoring Dean's childish, overly dramatic groan, “means neither of us has to move an inch right now, I deem it necessary.”

“Are you okay?” Dean asked, caressing Castiel's upper arm.

“I'm still mostly an angel. I can handle keeping my arms in a certain position for extended periods without pain, but I don't want to be passive like that the next time.”

“So, there will be a next time?”

“I am not a 'wham, bam, thank you man' kind of person.” 

Dean raised his head, looking down at Castiel with an incredulous expression on his face. “Really,  _ that's _ what you came up with?” 

The angel shrugged nonchalantly. Dean was about to pull away, but Castiel held him in place. “Stay,” he ordered quietly but firmly, and there was something in his voice that made Dean completely forget he’d wanted to put some distance between them in the first place. Giving in, he nudged Castiel's throat with his nose until the angel moved a little, and Dean buried his face into the crook of his neck.


	13. Chapter 13

The next day, Dean woke up better-rested than he'd felt in years. He was about to stretch when he realized there was a pleasant weight on his chest and a warm, naked body pressed into his side from head to toe, one leg between his. He grinned, playing back the events, and allowed himself an inner chick-flick moment in which he admitted that it was the best sex he'd ever had, even if technically it was third base only. 

It took a minute for him to recognize that Castiel was asleep, which was surprising, but instead of looking for an explanation, Dean decided to enjoy the role-reversal, the rare opportunity to watch Cas as he slept. He nearly went under himself by the time the angel woke up.

“Hey,” Dean murmured, hiding his fond smile in Castiel's dark mop of hair, then turned on his bedside lamp. The angel grunted and shifted to press his face further into Dean's shoulder. “Not a morning person, are we?” He let out an amused huff and began caressing Castiel's back, allowing him to restart himself.

“Hello, Dean,” Castiel finally lifted his head about 10 minutes later, looking up at the man, blinking sleepily.

“Morning, sunshine.”

“I've been advised by a reliable source that it's weird to watch people as they sleep.”

“Cas, this is different to your specialty. _That’s_ weird, this isn't,” Dean explained, although the angel didn't really seem that interested in the subtle shades of it. “Hope you don't mind me asking, but since when do you sleep anyway?”

The question was innocent enough, yet it stabbed Castiel like barbed wire. 

“I am able to if and when I want to, but I don't need to, so most of the time I simply don't,” he stated, and ignored the voice in his head that countered with a sarcastic ' _and of course that's not a lie'_. To push it all further away, he focused on all the sensations Dean's proximity offered, reveling in them, and his hand moved almost on its own accord, reverently running fingers over his lover's bare chest.

“This is such a cliché,” Dean chuckled, watching Castiel draw lazy circles onto his skin, right on his sternum.

“They become clichés because they work, and I happen to think morning-after cuddling works perfectly,” the angel shrugged, his hand wantonly inching lower, “but I can stop if you're bothered...”

“Yeah, no, feel free to continue. Although... that,” Dean moaned as Castiel brushed over his cock, “ _that_ feels rather morning-of to me.”

“Maybe, if you're lucky,” the angel teased, and he was about to kiss the man senseless when he realized that one of the emotions bubbling deep in his core was pure, unadulterated happiness. That stopped him cold in his tracks. “We need to talk.” He untangled himself from Dean's embrace and moved to sit on the edge of the bed, picking up his trenchcoat and draping it over his lap, his back towards the man. 

“Okay,” Dean looked bewildered. 

“Could you please put some clothes on? I can't do this with you in your current state of undress right next to me.”

“Are you telling me I am distracting?” Dean drawled playfully into Castiel's ear, heat radiating off him directly into the angel's being. 

“Yes.”

“Sexy?”

“Very. Now, Dean, please.”

“Alright, alright,” Dean conceded, and climbed out of bed. Castiel made a point of not looking at the man as he padded across the room to get fresh clothes, knowing that if he did, he would just pull him back into bed, and that would definitely not be a solution. “I'm dressed now.”

“I have to tell you something.”

“That doesn't sound ominous at all,” Dean joked, but it had a sharp edge to it, and Castiel had to swallow a lump in his throat before he could continue forming words. He waited until Dean settled down next to him, then dove in.

“I did something stupid.”

“Happens. Any specifics?”

“I had to make a deal with the Shadow of the Empty.”

“Had to,” Dean echoed. “Okay, what deal?” he asked, sensing that things wouldn't move forward unless he started playing 20 questions with the angel. 

“It invaded Heaven, looking for Jack. It was about to take him; I couldn't let that happen.”

“And?”

“And I offered to go with the entity right there and then if it left Jack alone.” Castiel was painfully aware that dragging out the confession was cowardly, yet he waited for Dean to prompt him again, like moves in a game of chess.

“That clearly didn't happen.”

“No.”

“For fuck's sake, Cas, will you just spit it out?”

“It will take me, but not until I am truly happy – so happy that I forget about the deal.” It was finally out in the open, so why wasn't he feeling any better?

“So, let me get this straight. You made a deal with an insane cosmic entity, who's ruling a domain we had no freaking idea even existed, and you agreed to be dragged to said domain the moment you're happy.” Dean's voice was cold and still way too calm. Castiel knew he was going to explode, and the later it came, the bigger the fallout would be. But he was well-versed in dealing with an angry Dean. It was nothing new, it was going to be okay, and if his thoughts were panicked, it didn't mean a thing... So when all that followed was dead stillness, heavy and oppressive, he realized he’d just entered yet another domain whose existence he’d been unaware of.

“Dean – ” he began hesitantly, desperate to break the silence. He found himself yearning for Dean's anger, for his raised voice, for anything familiar, but a mere fleeting glance at his lover was enough to tell it wasn't going to happen, and icy dread filled every part of him.

“Don't 'Dean' me. How could you?” He sounded so hurt, so broken that even Castiel's grace shivered in almost-physical pain. “And you tell me _now_? Awesome timing, Cas, really. Perfect.”

“I'm so sorry.”

“Yeah, a whole lotta good that's doing,” Dean spat back, frustrated.

“I never expected any of this to happen. I never expected to be happy. I... didn't think you'd want to make me happy,” Castiel confessed quietly, as if that explained everything. 

“How typical of you, being completely unable to accept that someone might actually care about you!”

“Don’t act like that’s an unfamiliar notion for you!”

“Damn it, Cas, I'm not the one who ordered a big fat serving of the Winchester special this time!” He stood up and started pacing up and down the length of his room.

“You would have done the same.”

“Maybe, but just because I’m fucked up beyond all repair, it doesn't mean you should be too.”

“Perhaps it's too late for that. Dean, Jack was in danger. _Jack_. My son,” Castiel wasn't even aware this was the first time he’d said it out loud like that, but Dean certainly didn't miss it.

“I know. Did you even stop to think before you signed your own death warrant like that?”

“No.”

“Exactly. How many times have I asked you not to do anything stupid? To think of the consequences? Fuck this, it's like the world's crappiest merry-go-round. And then, the cherry on top of the whole goddamn mess, you kept it secret.”

“I didn't want to burden you.”

“Burden me,” Dean repeated with a scoff, leaning against his desk and staring at Castiel. “Yeah, I'm sure that was the reason, and not that you were afraid of how I'd react, you coward!”

Castiel jumped to his feet, his trenchcoat falling to the floor, leaving him naked. He thought that was strangely fitting as he opened his mouth to shout, “Yes, maybe I was afraid because every time I make a mistake, no matter how small, you proceed to cut me off! You scream at me, you fling words at me like blades, then kick me aside! Every time, without fail! How do you think that feels?” 

Cas’ eyes flashed bluer than usual, and Dean realized it was a flare of his grace. He wasn't afraid of Castiel, not really, but it was hard to believe that the angel who now looked like fury personified was the same one who'd slept peacefully next to him barely half an hour ago. Defiantly, they withstood each other's gaze, both panting with the effort of holding themselves back, although at that point neither knew what it was they were keeping in check. Something then manifested, almost like a third, tangible being, right there in the room with them, and pushed them towards each other forcefully. 

Castiel reached out to steady Dean instinctively as he stumbled, and the moment his hand came to rest on Dean's shoulder, he felt a jolt of electricity and his wings popped free of their own volition, their dark shadow spanning the entire wall, clearly visible even though the only source of light was the dimmer bedside lamp. 

“Cas, what the hell's going on?” Dean asked, breathless. He took a step back, his eyes wide open and fixed on the astral projection behind the angel. 

“I have no idea. This has never happened to me before.” A shiver ran through Castiel and his wings twitched in sync with it. “It's like they are in control of themselves,” he said, wondering if this was an effect of his waning grace. His wings had been in a bad shape for longer than he cared to recall, but more recently, at least they weren't getting physically worse.

“Sounds reassuring. So, if they are doing this on their own, is that why there's no light-show this time?”

“Huh?”

“You're not glowing... well, anywhere, as far as I can see,” Dean pointed out, and it was then that Castiel remembered he still wasn't wearing anything. “Not that I'm missing it, to be honest. It’s not pleasant when you guys show off like that, it's a bit much.”

“I don't know what's happening,” Castiel bit his lower lip, and leaned down to pick up his trenchcoat, all of a sudden needing to cover himself. Trying to shrug into the garment, he had to face another baffling thing. “They woN'T FOLD BACK.” His voice rose into a higher pitch mid-sentence, and the expression on his face reminded Dean of the time he took the angel to a brothel. 

“Cas, don't freak out. Close your eyes and take a deep breath, or whatever else you angels do when you're about to have a meltdown.” 

“Okay.” Castiel did as he was told, inhaling a lungful of air he didn't necessarily need. His wings twitched up and down at the same time his shoulders did, and their presence started to feel like they normally did, even though stretching them to their full span as they were usually took effort. Gradually, the tension that pulled his entire being into a cramp dissipated and he could relax.

“Okay,” Dean repeated. “Don't think that you're off the hook just because you have the coolest attempt at a get-out-of-jail-free card.”

“They are damaged.” Castiel sounded ashamed as he uttered the words, and Dean fought to push down the urge to flee that particular conversation. They both knew the story behind the state of them, and it took all Dean had to convince himself to stay. He sighed and lifted his gaze to really look at the angel. He was an exquisite sight, nude body and those wings, broken or not... The visceral part of Dean threatened to take control for a moment, wanting to push Castiel onto the bed, but he squashed it down. 

“I can see that, but they are still awesome. Do they hurt?”

“No. Not anymore.” Despite the weird situation, Dean's face was lit up with childlike excitement, and Castiel didn't need to read his mind to understand what he wanted. “I think you can safely touch them, if you want to,” he advised softly.

“You think?” Dean chuckled with a hint of sarcasm, but one of his hands was up in the air before he even spoke. Hesitantly, he stepped into Castiel's space and reached behind him, brushing against a feather on the very first try, even though the shadow outline suggested there weren't many of them left. A guttural moan broke free from the angel, and Dean grinned. “That's weird. I can't see them, but I can feel them. And I guess you're enjoying that, aren't you?” Castiel nodded meekly, and folded his wings around Dean, finally being able to control them again. “Woah, that feels… nice. I'm still pissed though, so don't you dare be happy…”

“I'm not,” the angel shook his head. While having his wings wrapped around the man felt like cool, healing balm on his damaged feathers and the spots that were missing them completely, the weight of dread still sat heavy in his stomach. 

Dean turned around, now with his back towards Castiel, and he stretched out both hands to where he thought the angel's wings were. He found them right away and threaded his fingers through the feathers. They felt incredibly soft and silky and he yearned to see them, but he had no idea if that was possible. Not wanting to dredge up anything uncomfortable, he decided to settle for touching only, and when the angel behind him keened in pleasure, pressing his body against Dean's back, he knew that was the right choice. He closed his eyes – seeing his own fingers playing with thin air in front of him was just weird – and continued to caress the wings with a hand on either appendage, holding back a pained wince each time he brushed against what he assumed was scar tissue. Castiel kept making the most delightful noises behind him, the angel's face resting on his shoulder, one arm wrapped around his waist, the other a little further up around his chest. Dean moved one hand to lay it over Cas’ which was splayed just above his stomach, then let out a deeply content sigh when Castiel nuzzled the back of his neck and showered it with a constellation of kisses. Suddenly, he wished there wasn't a layer of cotton between them, thin as it was.

“Hey Angel,” he rasped, “I think I'm overdressed for the occasion. Any chance you can spare some mojo to do something about that?” 

“I thought you were against frivolous uses of my powers...” Castiel teased, his breath hot on Dean’s nape.

“Consider my mind changed, for now,” Dean let his head fall back for a moment, and he gasped when eager hands pulled up his t-shirt and a cool flicker of grace whisked his sweatpants away. 

They ended up making love on the bedroom floor, with only Castiel's trenchcoat underneath Dean as the angel rode him. They rocked together in slow, sensual synchronicity, hands entwined and Castiel's wings still present, sheltering them from the outside world as much as they could.


	14. Chapter 14

Sam's head snapped up. The heavy door of the Bunker made a loud noise as it crashed into the wall, and the younger Winchester was on his feet in a second, an angel blade in his hand. He did a quick headcount – everyone who was supposed to have access to the Bunker was actually inside, and the forceful opening of the door didn't fill him with much confidence either, so he tiptoed out of the library, silently creeping into the war room.

Listening intently, he could hear rhythmic clacks of heels – high heels - on the metal stairs. From where he stood, flat against the wall, he could not see the intruder, but he was sure it was a woman. The noise stopped, and Sam assumed whoever it was had just reached the bottom of the stairs.

“Sam Winchester,” a deep, indeed female voice drawled. Sam recognized it instantly, and pushing his surprise down, he stepped out to face the owner of it. 

“Amara.”

The Darkness inclined her head.

“You know that pigsticker of yours will not do anything to me,” she glared pointedly at the blade, “but just to remove the temptation...” With a barely-there flick of a perfectly manicured pointer finger, the weapon clattered to the floor halfway between them, and Sam's gaze followed the movement involuntarily before he raised it to her face.

“What do you want?” He growled.

“I'm not here to cause trouble. Well, that's a lie, I am definitely here to cause trouble, but not for you...” she trailed off, and walked over to the table in the middle of the room, lifting herself to casually perch on top of North America. “Go get your brother and his angel. We need to talk.”

“I'm not taking instructions from you. Why should we talk to you?”

“You'll know once the two lovebirds are here. Word of warning – I'd make sure to not go into Dean's room right now, just wait outside till they... come,” she giggled, and Sam rolled his eyes. “Come on Sam, you're wasting precious time. I will make it worth your while.”

Not seeing any better way to proceed, Sam decided to involve Dean and Castiel. Heeding Amara's caution, he knocked on the door of room 11 and waited in front of it rather than barging in like he usually would. It proved to be the smart decision as Castiel opened the door to stick his head and bare shoulder out, hair a mess and a blissed-out expression on his face, making it clear what was going on inside. 

“Wrap it up guys, you won't believe who's in the war room, waiting for you two to join...”

Castiel closed the door in Sam's face with a disinterested scowl, and barely a second later he heard Dean laugh: “Good thing I'm not allergic to feathers, this whole wing thing would be awkward otherwise...”

“Ugh, CUT IT OUT, Amara wants to talk to us.” Sam shouted at the door.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

“So it was you I could feel in there,” Castiel summarized, and Amara nodded.

“I feel violated,” Dean groaned, his expression a mixture of horror and disgust. 

“I promise I wasn't trying to be a voyeur, it just happened,” Amara assured them, crossing her legs, one stilettoed foot dangling in the air, dangerously close to Castiel's shin. The angel stepped further away from her, eyeing her with barely concealed distrust. “I didn't even know what you were doing, all I could feel was that my idiotic brother's fantasies were getting closer to becoming real and that the change originated from here. I honestly had no idea it was some relationship drama between the two of you that was about to make the difference,” she scoffed. “My brother has no idea I'm privy to his plans. He's become too cocky, and a cocky God means a lax God. Now, strictly speaking, he is not looking to destroy the whole world, but he's set on this cliché ending of you two” she pointed at Sam, then Dean, “killing each other, and he's not exactly careful about what else happens to reach that goal.”

“Fantastic,” Dean muttered, sarcasm dripping from the word. 

Not knowing what to say, Sam rested his elbows on the tabletop, chin on top of his folded hands.

“Anyway, since whatever is going on with Dean and the angel doesn't seem to be part of his grand scheme, it does beg the question of whether we can make something of it,” Amara spoke again after a few moments of silence. 

While Castiel didn't appreciate his budding relationship with Dean being reduced to a possible asset to stopping Chuck, he had to consider the idea and he was about to share that with the others when Jack walked in.

“Oh, hello,” he smiled softly before picking up on the tension in the air and frowning. Amara's eyes went wide and her mouth opened in surprise too.

“And who is this cutie?” She cooed at the same time as Jack asked “Who is that?”.

“Jack, meet Amara, also known as the Darkness, God's sister. Amara, that's Jack, the son of Lucifer,” Dean made short work of introductions, although he did stop to wonder briefly exactly when their lives had gone down a route that things like this not only made sense, but were becoming routine.

“I am not Lucifer's son,” Jack interjected, channeling his actual age of about three for a moment. Ever since he'd gotten his soul back, he hated every mention of his biological father even more and he didn't hesitate to voice it each time.

“Technically, you are, kiddo,” Dean said.

“So, this is what you are doing these days, playing 'Two men, an angel and a half'?” Amara inquired, bobbing her foot up and down. It earned a matching set of three eye-rolls and a confused head-tilt from Jack, which reminded Dean so much of Castiel that he had to keep himself from laughing out loud.

“We'd appreciate it if you refrained from sharing this with Chuck,” Castiel looked at Amara earnestly, a suggestion of “or else” in his voice. The Darkness shrugged and got to her feet, smoothing down her red pencil skirt. 

“Your dirty little secrets will stay safe with me,” she winked conspiratorially and mimed zipping her mouth shut before leaving. 

“So, Amara is back,” Sam asserted, finally finding his voice. Dean let out a low whistle. 

“Now with 100% more snark.”

“Maybe she was always this snarky, you just never talked to her long enough between kissing her and trying to kill her...” Sam laughed, breaking the tension. Castiel looked less than impressed as Dean mumbled “Screw you Sam, I wasn't able to control it” and Jack just stared at the three of them as if they had all sprouted an extra head. 

“Hilarity aside,” Castiel began, tone implying that he didn't find any of it hilarious, at all, “is no one else worried that she essentially just strolled in unnoticed, has been in the Bunker for however long she was here, and now she's aware of two things she claims God himself has missed?”

“She's God's sister, Cas, there is really not much we could have done to keep her out,” Dean pointed out, stepping closer to the angel and laying a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it gently. “She had no reason to reveal herself to us.”

“Unless it's all part of Chuck's plans,” Jack observed, voicing Castiel's exact thoughts.

“We have to assume that Chuck knows about Jack by now,” the angel said, and the Winchesters had to admit that he was right. “The question is, do we keep him where we can see him, knowing that Chuck may try to kill him again,” Dean winced at that, and Castiel laid his hand on his own shoulder, fingers overlapping Dean's hand which remained there, “or do we ship him off somewhere, in the hopes that he will not be found.”

“I want to stay.”

“We know, Jack, but we don't always get what we want,” Dean huffed. “Who am I kidding, we never really get what we want.”

It was then that Jack zeroed in on the contact between Castiel and Dean. 

“To me, it looks like you’ve been getting something you wanted,” he said softly, the bright smile on his face in stark contrast to his measured tone. 

“JACK!” Dean looked embarrassed. “Cas, can you tell your son to butt the hell out?”

Sam burst into unbridled laughter, and even the corners of Castiel's mouth curled upwards.

“I will butt out, if I can stay here.”

“The kid drives a hard bargain,” Sam clicked his tongue approvingly.

“Maybe it’s best if we keep an eye on him,” Dean suggested. “Carting him off to Jody’s could be an option, but if Chuck finds him there, we can’t do anything.”

“We need to stick together,” Castiel weighed in also, and Sam nodded in agreement. 

“ _ Together _ ,” Dean scoffed and looked at the angel intently. “Is there anything you need to share with these two?”

“Jack already knows,” Castiel admitted quietly.

“Oh, of course he does. Did everyone know before me? Maybe Sam, too?”

“No, Dean, I --”

“Okay, I’ll be… elsewhere,” Jack interrupted and escaped the war room. 

Sam’s confused gaze kept switching between Dean and Castiel. “What’s going on?”

“I made a deal.”

“You made a what now?” Sam sounded shocked and affronted at the same time. Dean’s sharp intake of breath also didn’t escape Castiel’s notice, and it reminded him that he didn’t have much time to get to grips with this either.

“You heard me, Sam,” Castiel let out a deep, plaintive sigh. “The Shadow of the Empty wanted to lay a claim on Jack’s soul, but I persuaded it to take me in his stead.”

“So, how long do you have?”

“I don’t know. It said it will take me when I give myself permission to be happy.”

“That’s… I don’t even know what to say.”

“There’s nothing that will change anything.”

“Cas, I know you are a Winchester in all but name, but you really need to stop covering all our greatest hits,” Sam rubbed the back of his neck, lifting his head to look at the angel who stood his gaze defiantly. 

“I had to choose between me or my son, Sam. It was always going to be Jack,” Castiel hissed, desperate to make Sam understand. Dean disappeared somewhere, obviously not wanting to be part of this particular conversation yet again, so Castiel allowed some of his bravado to slip away. “The Shadow will have me one way or another, all angels end up in the Empty after their deaths. It may have me sooner than planned, but I think as long as I keep a bit of distance from your brother – ”

“Yeah, good luck with that,” Sam mumbled sardonically.

“Look, Sam. I am going to be blunt here, and please do not take it as an insult, but I am so tired of the pure hypocrisy that you and Dean show in matters concerning my decisions. A clear majority of them were the exact same choice you or him would have made under the same circumstances, reckless or not.”

“That may be so, but we call each other out on the bullshit just as much as we do it to you.”

“I don't recall either of you telling the other he’s what goes wrong all the time,” Castiel snapped, and Sam inhaled sharply. 

“Dean said that?”

“Among other things. He apologized, I accepted, but I can't forget it happened.” 

“Dean's great with people.” Castiel arched a brow, failing to see how Sam had reached that thought and why it mattered in their current situation, but the younger Winchester continued without noticing. “When he's comfortable, he always knows the right thing to say. The issue is, when he's not comfortable and gets the urge to lash out, he also knows all the wrong things to say, and tends to use the ones that cut the deepest, too. He usually doesn't mean it, but he says it anyway, because he's hurt or scared or worried. That doesn't make it acceptable, and he knows that. We had some nasty fights, and I have a few things of my own that I've forgiven but haven't forgotten. It's messed up, yes, but I can tell he's working on it. You should tell him how you feel. How that made you feel. I know that trying to talk to Dean about feelings is like an attempt to nail wind to a tree most of the time, but once in a while, it works, just k –“ Suddenly, there were slippered footsteps nearing them, and seamlessly, kind-younger-brother slash unlicensed-therapist Sam switched into hunter mode with a straightened back and a focused expression. “So, this deal. Any way we can get you out of it?”

“I don't know,” Castiel shook his head, slightly thrown for a loop by the quick change of topic, made necessary by Dean's reappearance. “I had no idea about the Shadow's existence until I found myself face to face with it after Jack woke me up. Heaven may have some lore about it, but I can't access any of their libraries now, and since the Empty doesn't concern humans, there will likely be nothing here.”

“Wait. It doesn't concern humans. Would it still have a hold on you, if you were human?” Dean perked up visibly for a moment, and Cas hated to burst his bubble, but he had to. 

“I don’t think my… status would make any difference, no. It doesn’t seem to have much interest in nuances.”

“Let’s keep it as a Plan C anyway, okay?” 

Castiel could tell that Dean was trying his best not to sound desperate, and decided to humor him just for the time being. “Okay,” he nodded, pointedly ignoring the pained expression on Sam’s face.

“So, we just need to come up with Plans A and B then.”


	15. Chapter 15

Dean cleared his throat and Castiel turned to look at him expectantly. They'd been driving without a word for hours with the engine's purr the only noise, just to escape the Bunker after an eventful day, and while it wasn't the uncomfortable kind of silence, the angel had a hunch that something was going on in Dean's mind.

They passed another mile marker before Dean actually spoke. 

“Something you said earlier keeps rattling around in my head. Were you really afraid that I would kick you out if you told me about your deal?” 

“Dean, you didn't. It doesn't m– ” 

Dean interrupted him, staring resolutely at the road ahead. 

“If you finish that sentence with 'matter', so help me God,” he growled. Realizing that he was once again getting angry, he took a deep breath and bit his lip. “Cas.”

The sudden change in Dean's tone surprised Castiel, so much that he replied before his mind could catch up with his mouth. 

“Yes,” he stated simply, and Dean flinched. Immediately, Castiel wished he could take the word back, make it unsaid, the urge to protect Dean almost like a reflex, ingrained and strong.

“I'm sorry, Cas.” Dean's voice was barely above a whisper. “I'm so sorry.”

“We don't have to do this.”

“We do. I do,” Dean objected. “I know you heard me in Purgatory. I got things off my chest, I said my piece, but I never stopped to ask if you had one, too. What do you need?”

Castiel had to forcibly stop himself from saying “it doesn't matter.” Here they were, Dean giving him a chance to talk, offering to listen; would he really brush it off when mere weeks ago this was all he’d wanted? Easing himself into it, he turned to face Dean as much as he could, but it became too much and he closed his eyes. On one hand the answer could be so easy –  _ 'you' _ – but there were deeper layers...

“Everything I've ever known is changing. It's nothing new, it's been like that since I met you, really, but this time it's different somehow. My powers are slowly failing and I don't know where that leaves me. What it makes me. I'm not an angel, not really, but I'm not a human either. I keep making decisions, and each time it turns out to be the wrong one. It wasn't always this way. I used to have a purpose, I was part of something bigger, I was guided and I never stopped to question if I was actually misguided, because the notion of that didn't even exist. Now, all that exists is the doubt. I don't want to be a tool anymore, but all I know is how to be one, so I kept choosing to follow, to be used – not always consciously, either. There is no such choice now, and I don't have a home, so I remain here, even though sometimes it feels like I'm only here to take the blame, to be a wall that can be punched and won't hit back... I'm lost, Dean, adrift,” he ended with a sigh, absentmindedly scratching the leather seat underneath him. Only then did he realize that at some point Dean had pulled over and stopped the car. He glanced up and found the man looking at him with something undecipherable in his wide green eyes.

“I didn't know. I'm so sorry.”

“It's okay, Dean. It's not your fault I have no idea what I'm doing.”

“Welcome to the club,” Dean let out a wry chuckle. “I suck at this, too.”

“Yes, and I learned most of what I know from you, so I guess it may actually partially be your fault. It's all going as well as can be expected,” Castiel replied with a chuckle of his own. “Still a couple of dumbasses.”

“I thought we were just  _ 'trusting' _ ,” Dean breathed out and pushed himself closer to Castiel, only stopping about an inch from him. Tentatively, he slid a hand up the angel's arm, over his shoulder and then his neck, finally coming to rest on his jaw, thumb in the dip just below his ear. The angle was awkward, there really wasn't enough space, but the inconvenience was forgotten when Castiel leaned in to meet him halfway in a kiss. It was different to any other they'd shared before: desperate and unbridled. Dean tried to pour everything he had into it, both hands wound into Castiel's hair, holding onto him for dear life. Castiel returned it all with fervor, and a moment later Dean found himself with a lapful of eager angel, pressed against him tightly for the lack of space between the dashboard and the back of the seat. “I can't breathe,” he gasped into the soft, pink lips, and Castiel pulled away as much as he could, looking down with a worried expression on his face.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, Cas, I'm fine, but Baby's front seat wasn't built with this kind of situation in mind, and the fit's kinda tight,” he grinned. For a moment he considered moving to the back to have more freedom, imagining Castiel spread out under him, naked on the black leather as he took him, and he knew the angel would let him, but another idea put itself forward and it wouldn't let him rest, so he stowed the erotic fantasy for later. “Let's get our asses home.”

Castiel nodded, and although his eyes were still clouded over with lust, he moved off of Dean's lap and settled back onto the seat. 

* * 

It was dark by the time they made it back to the Bunker. Dean parked the Impala in the garage. For a moment he listened to the peaceful clicks of the cooling engine as he gathered his thoughts. 

“Come with me,” he smiled at Castiel and got out, knowing that the angel would follow. Purposefully, he walked to the library, Castiel eventually behind him. They stopped next to one of the desks, where Dean retrieved the pocketknife he always carried with him and popped its blade out, offering it to Castiel handle first. 

The angel tilted his head to the side in his usual way of expressing confusion. “Dean?” 

“Something is missing,” he replied, gesturing towards the desk, eyes fixed on the angel's face. Castiel still didn't seem to understand, so Dean patted the tabletop and watched as it dawned on the celestial being. “I should have told you this before. You have a home. You are home.” Getting the words out was somehow easier than he thought it would be. “Now, would you mind carving your name into that damn desk already so I can consider the sharing and caring over?”

Castiel laughed at that, his whole being shaking with it, eyes sparkling, his nose scrunched up, and if Dean wanted to be honest with himself, he would have said it was suddenly his favorite sight and sound. With a wide, bright smile on his face, Castiel leaned over the desk and went to work.   
  


*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Somewhere in the vastness of the Empty, the Shadow rose.


	16. Chapter 16

“Morning, Cas,” Dean strolled into the library.

Castiel looked up from the box of dusty artifacts he was trying to sort through. “Good morning. Did you sleep well?”

Dean replied by way of a non-committal grunt, and pulled up a chair right next to Castiel. 

“Coffee?” the angel continued.

“Nah,” Dean shrugged, attention drawn to the box instead. “What are these?” 

“Assorted paraphernalia from the archives. I'm in the process of organizing them.”

“What do they do?” 

“I'm not sure. Dean, do not touch anything,” he slapped away the hunter's curious hand as he tried to do just that. “You should know better than to blindly reach into a box of unknown artifacts.”

“You're doing it...”

“I'm still an angel.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“Is something the matter?” 

“Can we talk?” Dean's eyes were manic, flitting from one corner of the room to the other, and it was odd. These days, Castiel's grace wasn't strong enough to see souls all the time, having to rely on human-like vision instead, but usually, with concentration, he could still see them, and he knew Dean's so intimately, it was the easiest of them all. Not this time. No matter how much he strained, he couldn't see that bright light.

“Of course. What about?”

“I love you, Cas,” Dean whispered, leaning over to kiss the angel, who just looked at him with a confused head tilt.

“Are you drunk?” Castiel wrinkled his nose and sniffed the air, trying to discern if there was alcohol on the hunter's breath. Something was definitely going on. Even his voice was different now, hollow and almost cold, despite the words...

“So that's how you react to someone confessing their love to you?” Dean pulled away immediately. He sounded deeply hurt, and Castiel felt a near-physical twist of pain in his chest.

“I'm... so sorry. It was unexpected, that's all. I love you too,” the angel replied gently. He still found the situation very peculiar, but it was Dean, and the look of rejection on his face was too much to bear. “I'm happy you told me,” he continued and reached out to pull Dean into a hug. His eyes were about to flutter closed when he spotted something in this peripheral vision. 

“What the absolute _ fuck _ ?” It was Dean's voice, in his usual cadence, but it didn't come from whoever Castiel had his hands on. The angel watched as the Dean closer to him started grinning maniacally.

“You,” Castiel growled, his whole body trembling with fury as recognition dawned on him.

“ Surprise, bitch. I bet you thought you’d seen the last of me. Oh, wait, you weren’t thinking of me at all recently, isn't that right? Too busy with happy frolicking... ” The Shadow cooed and preened itself, the mocking expression so wrong on Dean's face it made Castiel feel ill. “Nuh-uh, pretty boy, don't even think about it,” the entity turned towards the real Dean, quick as a whirlwind, and slammed the man against the wall with a flick of its hand. He landed in a heap on the floor, and the angel blade he'd been trying to throw came to a stop right next to the Shadow's feet. It looked at the weapon and kicked it aside carelessly. “It wouldn't have worked on me anyway,” the entity jumped up with a movement that wouldn't have looked out of place on a 16-year-old girl, giddy and excited. 

“Stay the hell away from the angel,” Dean warned, the 'or else' unsaid. He tried to struggle to his feet, but the entity kept him from moving.

“I don't think I will,  _ human _ ,” the Shadow taunted, biting its lower lip. Its hands twitched in anticipation as he dragged Castiel to his feet too without touching him. Slowly, the Shadow's fingers turned black, its original form starting to take over. It was about to reach out and touch Castiel when something invisible seemed to smash into its shoulder. It hissed angrily, and Castiel groaned in pain at the same time, a sickening crunch sounding. Even though nothing could be seen, Dean knew with absolute certainty that the Shadow had just broken one of Cas' wings, and he struggled against the entity's hold, trying to help the angel, to protect him.

Castiel dropped to a crouch, another pained moan escaping him as he did. He flicked his gaze at Dean, his eyes full of everything he hadn’t said before, and grabbed the angel blade, holding it against his own neck. 

“It may not work on you, but it will work on me. I can cut out my grace, then you will not have a hold on me anymore,” the angel lifted his head, sneering up at the Shadow.

“Go ahead,” the entity cackled, now fully in its black form. “I may not be able to drag you with me, but I can still kill you. You will still lose everything you worked for, everyone you love... It's not exactly what I want, but it is a compromise I can live with.”

“I think Dean told you to stay the hell away from Cas,” Jack materialized in the middle of the library, and Sam followed on foot a few moments later. 

“I helped you, nephilim, I kept you SAFE!” The entity bellowed as it turned its whole attention on Jack and raised its arms in one swift move, slamming Sam and Castiel against the bookshelves, keeping them in place. Its power had zero effect on Jack though, whose eyes merely started glowing amber. 

“And now you're threatening my father. I will not stand by idly.”

“Oh? What will you do?” The entity mocked. 

“This,” Jack said, composed. He lifted a hand and started squeezing his fingers together. It took effort, and his eyes glowed again. The Shadow gasped and began curling in on itself.

“Jack, no, you can't use your powers,” Castiel shouted, fighting to move, to shake off the entity's hold. 

“I will not let it take you. Not in my place, not at all,” Jack's voice was strained now, and his whole body trembled, but the Shadow kept getting smaller. Soon, it seemed unable to spare the energy to keep the Winchesters and Castiel pinned. Immediately, Sam moved to check on Dean, while Castiel struggled to his feet, laying his hand on Jack's shoulder and pouring every inch of grace he could into him. Tears were streaming down the nephilim's face as his powers drained him. 

“Stop, son, you're killing yourself,” Castiel whispered. He could feel that Jack was getting weaker, leaning against him more and more.

“No, I'm almost there.” The Shadow was screeching in pain and frustration at this point, shrunken to the size of an apple. Finally, Jack's hand managed to make a fist and the Shadow disintegrated into a thick black fog. The nephilim fell back into Castiel's arms, halfway to unconsciousness, and the angel lowered both of them to the floor.

“What did you do, son?” Castiel's voice broke through the haze of pain, and Jack blinked as he felt another flash of the angel's grace, just enough to keep him awake. 

The fog the Shadow left behind was still in the air, and it crackled with pure power. Without thinking, Jack opened his mouth and breathed in deeply. One lungful of smoke gave him enough energy to straighten himself, and gradually he inhaled all of it, standing up to bask in it. The two Winchesters and Castiel watched with growing unease. 

“That can't be good for him,” Dean muttered, remembering all the previous times he’d witnessed someone he cared about inhale something powerful. It felt like he was watching a replay, and all he could do was hope that it wasn't going to lead to similar conclusions.

“Probably not,” Sam agreed.

Jack turned to look at them with a bright, honest smile on his face, and the amber glow of his eyes dimmed. When he realized Castiel was still on the floor, he moved to crouch down next to the angel. Snapping out of his stupor, Dean joined them too, taking Castiel's hand into his, entwining their fingers.

“You're hurt,” Jack stated gently, and laid his hand on something invisible behind Castiel's back. “I think I can fix them completely, if you want me to,” he offered, gaze searching the angel's for an answer. 

“Jack, no. I don't deserve them anymore. I am not even sure I'd want them,” Castiel said dolefully. His shoulders twitched and he groaned as pain shot through him. 

“I will just heal the new fractures then.” Jack’s hand emitted a warm, golden light and Castiel's face smoothed out.

“Thank you,” the angel whispered, pulling Jack into a one-armed hug. The nephilim's smile got even brighter as he snuggled into the contact.

“Any time, Dad.” 

“What did I say about not being  _ stupid _ ?!” An irritated voice came from behind them, and turning around, they found Billie standing on top of the few steps leading down to the library, glowering at them with an annoyed expression. “You idiots just keep pushing your luck.”

“Billie,” Dean groaned, standing up and carefully placing himself between Death and the two celestial beings still crouched on the floor.

“Chill, I’m not here to reap anyone,” she held up a placating hand, “although every now and then I am kinda tempted to just get it over with...”

“Why are you here then?” Sam asked, his voice unusually cool and gruff. 

“God knows the nephilim’s alive. Whatever he’s just done sent shockwaves through any and all existing realms. I could say ‘hope it was worth it’, but I am pretty sure it wasn’t. So,” Billie circumvented Dean to stand in front of Jack, “what did you do?”

“He killed the Shadow,” Castiel replied instead. Billie’s face went slack for a moment before she schooled her expression.

“What happened exactly? Be. Very. Precise.”

“I used my powers on it,” Jack spoke quietly, and Billie shot him a  _ ‘no shit, Sherlock’ _ look. “I turned it into a black fog and I … inhaled it,” the nephilim shivered, almost as if he only just then realized what he had done. 

“Damn, son,” Death clicked her tongue in approval. “You’ve gained control of the Empty. Of course, you were not meant to do that, but I really should have expected all the possible complications with you all.”

“What do you mean ‘gained control of the Empty’?” Dean asked.

“You could say that he’s the Shadow now.” A moment of stunned silence followed, and when Castiel opened his mouth to break it, Billie shushed him. “There’s nothing you can do for now, and I will not be taking any more questions at this point, but I will be back to talk to Jack in private later,” she declared and disappeared. 

“Son of a bitch!” Dean cursed loudly and moved to punch the wall in frustration, but he caught Sam’s barely perceptible head shake and decided against it.


	17. Chapter 17

The adrenaline still humming in Dean’s veins and the bitter taste of fear in his mouth gradually took control over him, turning to anger and he flashed a stormy look at his angel.

“Cas, can I have a word?”

Castiel seemed to sense Dean’s foul mood, and steeled himself before a mumbled “Of course”, then followed Dean down the corridor. The moment their bedroom door closed behind them, Dean pushed him up against it, and held him there with an arm across Cas’ chest, even when the angel let out a grunt.

“Cas,” Dean growled, his voice raw before it faltered, and only hurried gasps for air came out. His arm dropped, letting go of Castiel, who sagged slightly but remained with his back against the door.

“Dean?” He spoke tentatively, like he wasn’t exactly sure how to proceed, and there was a strong enough hint of worry in his eyes for Dean to recognize even through the fog of his own haywire emotions.

“I hated that,” Dean croaked out eventually, half-heartedly gesturing towards everything outside their bedroom, and his head drooped. 

“I know. I hated it too,” Castiel replied, bending his body to find Dean’s eyes before continuing. “Is that why you’re angry at me?”

“I’m not angry.”

“Dean,” Castiel scolded gently, and Dean reconsidered.

“Okay, I am angry, but not at you.”

“Talk to me.”

“It almost ended in pain,” Dean mumbled.

“But it didn’t. I wish I had something more reassuring to say, but I don’t,” Castiel shook his head. “You made me truly happy, Dean, it would have been worth it just for that.”

Dean made a noise that sounded too close to a half-choked sob for his own liking. “Is that supposed to make it better? How could it be worth it? One moment of good in a sea of shit, and a half goo, half me thing comes to try and drag you away?! It still had my face when it broke your wing, Cas…”

“I’m sorry I put you through this, but it’s over now. I’m fine, and I will make sure you are, too,” Castiel whispered and pushed himself away from the door, slotting in right up against Dean instead, slightly shaking hands reaching up to cradle his face. “I didn’t realize it would affect you this much,” he continued even quieter. 

“Did you honestly think I’d just shrug it off, you idiot?”

“I don’t know what I was thinking. Perhaps I wasn’t thinking at all.”

“Damn straight you didn’t. You’ll fit right in, welcome to being a Winchester,” Dean chuckled sarcastically. Suddenly, Castiel’s grip on his face tightened, holding him in place and the angel claimed his lips hungrily; pushing, licking, biting with a reckless abandon. Dean couldn’t budge an inch - not that he wanted to. Instead, he wrapped his arms around Cas’ waist in an impossible mission to pull him closer still and took everything he was willing to give. Then, Castiel tugged his flannel overshirt off of one shoulder, and they stumbled towards the bed, gracelessly shedding and even ripping layers, but they didn’t get very far with stripping each other before they fell onto the mattress in a tangled heap of limbs and garments. The wooden frame creaked under the sudden weight and the headboard banged loudly against the wall as they settled with Dean on his back and Castiel right on top of him, between invitingly open bowlegs.

“Guys, everything ok in there?” Sam’s voice came from right outside the door, accompanied by a series of rapid, short knocks. 

“We’re fine,” Castiel replied.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, but I think we need to talk,” Sam spoke again. Begrudgingly, Castiel tried to pull away from Dean, but he continued to clutch at him greedily.

“I need you here, Cas, don’t you dare leave me right now,” he murmured into the dip behind the angel’s ear, then he raised his voice to address his brother instead. “Five minutes, Sam, just give us five fucking minutes!” He probably imagined Sam’s “okay” more than actually hearing it, but it was all secondary to the sensation of Castiel’s body covering every inch of him anyway. 

The angel dipped his head to claim a kiss. “I’m not leaving,” he said, pressing up into Dean’s hands which roamed his back under the trenchcoat but over his shirt. 

“Damn your freaking holy tax accountant getup, can’t even get to your skin in five…”

“You were the one setting the time, Dean,” Castiel chuckled, blindly struggling to undo Dean’s belt, too busy with kissing his jaw and neck to look down. “But, I doubt Sam will be timing us with a stopwatch anyway. Also, on the topic of layers  – ”

“Cas, shut up, too much talk,” Finally, Castiel managed to get Dean’s fly open and snuck his hand into his underwear. Eyes closed, head thrown back and mouth wide open in a sound of pleasure, Dean bucked into the tender touch on his cock, wanting more. 

“This isn’t working,” Castiel groaned in frustration after half a minute of wrist contortion, not having gotten any closer to getting Dean off. 

“We’ll do that properly next time, get out of there for now,” Dean instructed, and Castiel responded with a disappointed pout but obeyed, then tried to climb off of Dean once again. “Hey, where do you think you’re going?”

“I thought  – ”

“Don’t think, follow my lead,” Dean held Castiel’s gaze as his hands slid down to the angel’s ass, grabbing handfuls of it and tugging until their lower halves were flush. He rocked his hips up into Castiel’s a few times until he started matching his movements, but they found their rhythm quickly after, and it didn’t take long for Dean to come with a gasp of Cas’ name which the angel swallowed straight from his parted lips, following suit mere heartbeats later. 

Tightly entwined still, Dean crossed his arms over Castiel’s back, open palms on his shoulder blades, holding him possessively. He couldn’t help but notice that Cas was just as breathless as he was if not even more so, and it reminded him of a question he’d wanted to ask. “Would you really have cut out your grace?”

Castiel’s reply was immediate and unwavering. “Yes.”

“Cas!”

“I'm not a very good angel, Dean, never been. Now that I am turning human, maybe I should settle it once and for all.”

“You shouldn’t want to give up your powers. Maybe we can find a way  – ”

“No,” Castiel interrupted firmly. “I don’t  _ want _ to give them up, but it’s inevitably happening as we speak, and having them halfway is… a mockery.” Disentangling himself from Dean’s grip, he used his grace to right their clothes, and managed to clean them but couldn’t fully straighten them. “Case in point,” he muttered darkly, buttoning up his half-undone shirt and waiting for Dean to zip up his fly and buckle his belt before pulling him to his feet. “Let’s go and see what your brother wants.”

Together, they walked back to the library. Both Sam and Jack seemed to be deep in thought, sitting on opposite sides of a desk. Jack didn’t even look up when Dean and Castiel entered.

“Nice of you to join,” Sam’s words had a slight barb to them, and Dean’s shoulders hunched in almost automatically before he forced himself to straighten up and level his brother with a stern look he hoped clearly conveyed the  _ ‘I dare you to give me shit for taking a few personal minutes for once’  _ message. Okay, the timing sucked, but when did it not suck for them? Sam gave a half-nod, half-shrug in response and remained silent.

Castiel settled into the chair next to Jack while Dean leaned against one of the other desks, facing the seated trio.

“Clearly we have not been ambushed by Chuck yet, so what’s going on?” Dean asked.

“Not long after you left, Billie came back,” Jack said quietly, watching his own fingers as they fiddled with the bottom of his light blue sweatshirt. “She told me what the last step is,” he added as an afterthought, but didn’t elaborate.

Castiel turned towards him. “What is it, son?” 

Jack’s only reply was a small hiccup-like noise, and Sam shook his head. “He wouldn’t tell me either.”

“Jack,” Dean began. “You can tell us whatever it is, and we will help you.”

“No!” The nephilim burst out, his voice shaky but loud. “No,” he repeated at a lower volume. “I can do it on my own. I - I need to do it on my own, actually.”

“Okay, we get that,” Sam said. “But, we would like to know  _ what _ you need to do.”

“Billie told me that I can’t tell you.”

“That bitch,” Dean muttered under his breath, and Cas shot him a disapproving look before focusing on Jack once again. 

“It’s okay. Everything will be okay,” the angel tried to soothe him, but it seemed to make things worse as Jack teared up.

“No, not everything will be, Dad,” he heaved a sigh and disappeared with a flap of wings.

“Fuck!” Dean cursed, and this time there was nothing that could’ve held him back from punching that wall.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

It was the middle of the night when Jack finally returned, walking through the Bunker’s front door visibly exhausted with unfocused eyes and a haunted expression. Castiel was the first one to notice his arrival, and he jumped up from the war room chair he’d slumped onto hours earlier after a string of frantic phone calls to any and all contacts he could think of. 

“Sam, Dean!” He shouted while taking the stairs two at a time to get to Jack. The nephilim swayed on his feet but he flashed a tired smile at Castiel. 

“I’m back.”

“I can see that,” Castiel rolled his eyes. “Where have you been?”

“I went to see Billie.”

“What the hell was that disappearing act, kid?” Dean’s voice came from below them, and sure enough, he stood in the middle of the war room, with Sam next to him, both Winchesters glaring daggers up at them on the landing.

“I’m sorry,” Jack hung his head. “I… I said no, but… You just wouldn’t let it go, and it was too much. I needed to get away.”

“Are you ready to tell us now?” Sam asked, features settling into an expression of worry.

“Not all of it. Part of it, I can’t even say out loud,” Jack sniffled softly, and Castiel put an arm around him.

“Sit down and tell us what you can,” he suggested, gently guiding the nephilim down the stairs. Dean squeezed Jack’s shoulder as he passed him, and Sam nudged one of the chairs closer. Jack settled into it, pulling one knee up and resting his chin on top.

“I don’t think I can do this. I’m not strong enough yet, but I will not do the last step. I can’t…” Suddenly, there were tears streaming down his face and he didn’t seem to be able to stop them.

“Hey, kid,” Dean began quietly. “If it isn’t a time-sensitive thing, you don’t have to decide right now.” Both Sam and Castiel shot him a disbelieving look, but he shrugged and went on. “We’ll try to look for something else in the meantime. I mean, how hard can it be to kill God and his sister?” It was a lame joke and Dean seemed to be fully aware of it too, but Jack let out a sniffle-snort in reply anyway. “You look like Hell, go and get some sleep.”

“Mhm,” Jack hummed, wiping his eyes with the back of his hands as he gathered enough energy to walk to his bedroom, eventually leaving Sam, Dean and Castiel on their own.

“That was surprisingly gentle of you, Dean,” Sam began once the nephilim was out of earshot.

Dean scoffed. “Tell me what you really think.”

“That came out wrong…”

“No, it didn’t. Look, I’m not stupid. I won’t push an overly emotional 3-year-old who could smite me with a blink,” Dean took a deep breath. “I’m still angry at him for… y’know, but he’s just a child with more power than I’d trust a sane adult with and he has to handle this huge responsibility he didn’t ask for. I still remember what that feels like, even if a lot of shit has happened since I was 4.”

Castiel stepped closer, ready to offer a touch of comfort, but Dean inched away just enough to be out of reach, and Cas dropped his slightly lifted arm. 

Sam, at the same time, fixed his gaze on his brother’s face, a cautious half-smile tugging the corners of his mouth upwards. “You’re worried about him.”

Dean turned his head in a clear evasion technique. “Bad as it sounds, Jack is still our best chance to get rid of Chuck, but we won’t get anywhere if he’s upset.” 

Sam snorted, but didn’t say anything.

“I’ll talk to him in the morning. I don’t like that he’s trying to keep things to himself,” Castiel offered.

“Whatever it is, it must be big,” Sam mused. “Something big, bad and personal.”

“Just the way we like it.”


	18. Chapter 18

“I can feel your eyes on me,” Dean grumbled, just about awake.

With a subtle upwards curl of his lips, Castiel decided to ditch the book he had been attempting to read entirely. He had indeed been looking at the sleeping Dean intermittently, although not right at the moment he’d spoken. Wriggling a little closer, he looked in earnest this time, taking in the miles of freckled skin barely covered by their bedsheets.

“You’re still staring,” Dean piped up again.

Castiel scooted closer still and kissed the roundest part of Dean’s shoulder, then nuzzled the back of his neck gently, wrapping an arm around his waist.

Dean twisted his upper body towards Cas - it probably wasn’t the most comfortable pose, but he didn’t seem to mind. “Is Jack okay?”

“He was sleeping when I checked on him. I want to help him, but I can’t.”

“You’re doing all you can.”

“Then why do I feel so inadequate?”

“Cas. Don’t we have enough real problems to find imaginary ones where there’s none?” Dean groaned. “C’mere, I’ll distract you,” he beckoned, and claimed Cas’ lips when the angel lifted his head. One of Dean’s hands found its way to Cas’ hair, and he used the grip to coax him into a position that allowed for easier kissing.

“You should be sleeping. You had a rough day, and the upcoming ones will likely be just like that,” Cas merely breathed the words onto Dean’s skin when they stopped trading kisses for a moment.

“I  _ was _ sleeping, but some creep was staring at me, and that woke me up. What about you?”

“I’m still an angel. I’m falling, but for now, I have enough grace to not need sleep,” Castiel didn't mean to drag the mood down, but the words were out now, and he expected Dean's face to cloud over with guilt, but all he saw was determination instead as the man turned around, resting his head on the same pillow, mere inches from Castiel’s face.

“When you need it again… I will do better by you than the last time.”

“I trust you to.”

“You better... your ass is stuck with me now.”

“Just my ass?” Castiel inquired dryly, and Dean seemed to contemplate it for a few seconds.

“Maybe everything else too, but it's a definite yes for your ass.” Dean's hand made its way to his rear and squeezed it rather enthusiastically. “Actually, there is something else that's a definite yes,” he continued with a grin, moving to palm Cas’ cock with barely-there touches, just enough to coax him to half-hardness.

“You’re incorrigible,” Castiel grumbled but it was only for show - deep down, he reveled in the sensation. 

“Come on, a little hedonism never hurt anyone,” Dean teased, grabbing Castiel’s hand and  shamelessly guiding it down south on his body.

“I’m not sure that’s true,” Castiel argued.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

A loud knock and a mumbled conversation woke Castiel from... sleep? He must have fallen asleep after all that successful distraction. Trying to fix his momentarily blurry vision by rubbing his eyes, he finally focused on Dean who was sitting fully dressed on the corner of the bed.

“You need to get up. That was Sam. He said Amara is here and she wants to talk to us.”

“Alright,” Castiel nodded and moved to get dressed.

Less than five minutes later they were in the library where Amara, Sam and Jack waited for them.

“Chuck is back,” Amara announced without any preamble. 

“Are you his personal messenger now?” Dean enquired dryly.

“No. I was trying my best to stay out of it, but I’m still connected to my brother, so I can’t ignore things forever. He’s back, and expecting you.”

Sam sighed. “Will you help us?”

“I will not help you kill him. I am under no illusions - once he’s gone, I’ll be the next item on your list.”

“Amara…” Dean began, but she interrupted him.

“Don’t give me the puppy eyes,” she held up a finger in warning. “I know it wouldn’t be personal, that it would be to preserve the balance, but that won’t make me any less dead in the end.”

“If you won’t help, why are you here?”

“I said I won’t help you  _ kill  _ him. But, there may be another way, and I could be persuaded to assist you with that.”

“What do you mean?” Castiel asked.

“Your little nephilim could usurp Chuck,” Amara turned her head towards Jack. “You will need to weaken him, and overpower him. It will not be easy, but easier than killing him, and then me.”

“I’m in,” Jack jumped up from his chair eagerly. “As long as it doesn't involve finishing the power-up ritual.”

“You’re strong enough already to make it work with my help, but if you have a way to get even stronger, and it sounds like you do –”

“No. No way,” Jack interrupted. 

“Then we’ll make do with what we have,” Amara said.

Dean furrowed his brows. “How?”

“We need to come up with a good plan,” Sam concluded, brows knitted in deep concentration already. 


	19. Chapter 19

Dean steered the Impala cautiously through the sudden, torrential downpour. Her tires kept hydroplaning on the standing water each time he so much as twitched her wheel, and his only hope of making it through the deluge was that Chuck probably didn’t intend for them to die in a measly car accident.

“That’s gotta be Chuck,” Sam spoke from the passenger seat, holding on for dear life as he studied the rain that no weather forecast had mentioned.

“No doubt. He knows we’re coming, and this is our welcome,” Cas added from the back, soothingly squeezing Jack’s wrist who sat next to him with a thunderous expression perfectly matching the weather outside.

“I should be going in alone.”

“Jack, we talked about this. We’re doing it together,” Dean gritted out. 

Indeed, they had talked about it. Extensively, halfway to dawn, in a mix of raised voices, half-pronounced pleas and utter denial of self-destructive tendencies by all four of them, interspersed with Amara’s exasperated groans; until exhaustion had hit, and everyone had finally, begrudgingly agreed, if only just to have the ordeal of the discussion over and done with. 

“The last night on Earth to end all last nights on Earth, and I’m too tired to even make an indecent offer…” Dean had grinned drowsily as he and Cas had fallen into bed for a few hours of sleep.

“There will be time for that. We will make it,” Cas’ tone had oozed a kind of manufactured certainty neither of them really felt, but… bigger lies had been told before. 

“Okay,” Dean had nodded with a wide yawn, and had pressed a quick kiss into Cas’ messy hair before promptly falling asleep. 

Now, they found themselves in front of an imposing, old church. Dean parked the Impala by the curb and switched off her engine. Everyone seemed reluctant to speak or move, the silence and stillness heavy inside the car. Eventually Sam broke both, clearing his throat and shifting until he could half-turn in his seat, his back against the door.

“Are we doing this?” He asked.

“Do we have any other choice?” Dean scoffed, jaded. He was ready to climb out of the car, to face the rain, and then Chuck, but a feather-light touch on his shoulder made his resolve falter. 

“Dean.”

Dean’s gaze met Castiel’s in the rearview mirror, the angel’s blue eyes big and bright against the grayness of the shadow over most of his face. All four of them had agreed that they wouldn’t make any big proclamations or dramatic gestures, and they’d stuck to it the whole morning before they’d left the Bunker, but suddenly it all seemed dumb, dumb enough to make Dean want to throw it all to the wind. He turned as far as he could, and Castiel moved closer at the same time. 

Both Sam and Jack looked distinctly uncomfortable but neither said anything, intently averting their eyes while Dean met Cas in a kiss over the back of his seat. He kept it short on purpose, steeling himself not to dive back in when Cas murmured “I know, me too”, chapped lips ghosting over his still. Then, they pulled away from each other at the same time, and Dean tapped the steering wheel.

“Let’s try to stick to the plan, okay?” He said, trying to mask the thick emotions in his voice as he glared especially at Jack.

“Okay,” Jack assented, albeit with reluctance.

“Good.” 

The church loomed above them. Repeated flares of lightning illuminated its tall steeple as the two Winchesters got out of the car and ran across the sidewalk, stopping for a moment to check the weapons stashed on their person. 

“So on the nose,” Dean quipped, and Sam huffed, not specifying if it was in reaction to Chuck’s choice of location or Dean’s intent to joke the fear away. 

“We’re doing this,” Sam said instead, trying to pull Dean into a quick, one-armed hug.

“Yeah, Sammy, we are,” Dean went along with the hug for a moment before pushing his brother away. With a deep breath, they pushed the heavy door open and stepped into the church.

Chuck sat with his sneakered feet casually propped up on the edge of the big wooden altar across the candlelit nave, strumming on a guitar without a care in the world.

"Hello, boys," he greeted them cheerfully, not even looking up or stopping to play. "Wait, sorry, that's not my line… whoops." Eventually he lifted his head and shook himself, putting the guitar away then shifting into his old persona of a meek writer-turned-prophet as if he was changing costumes. “Oh! Oh, you’re still there. You’re not a hallucination. Well, there's only one explanation. Obviously I'm a god. A cruel, capricious god.” He flashed a mockery of a serene smile then, demeanour and voice changing once again as he continued. “Come on now, you really can’t complain I didn’t give you enough hints. I have always been honest… to an extent at least, but I did flat out tell you exactly who and how I was the first time we met.”

"Cut the crap, you theatrical bastard!" Dean shouted, all out of patience already.

“Dean, Dean, Dean, so rude all the time. I really shouldn’t have given you so much insolence, but at first it was entertaining to watch others try and fail to cope with you.”

“Is this it, your big finale? A bit of rain and a few weak insults? Random demons can do better than that.”

“Ever the macho. No, this isn’t  _ it _ , but there are different ways this can go. You’re set on getting me out of the picture, I know that. But, how about you, Sam? Did you forget what I showed you? Do you think you’ll be able to cope with the out of control monster population once I’m gone?”

Sam gulped before replying. “We’ll take our chances. Monsters are what we do.”

“That brave face is almost believable, but I know what you felt just before our connection got severed, and I also know those feelings, those thoughts are not gone entirely. Did you tell Dean the whole truth? That you ended up as vampires, the same filthy, unnatural things you spent your lives hunting? That every last person ever associated with you two – who is by some miracle still alive – ended up dead, too? That the monsters won?”

“As long as it’s not you winning…” Sam shrugged with feigned nonchalance. 

“Oh, but that  _ is _ me winning, even if I’m not around to see it. There is no way this ends well for you. The only question is, how badly does it end for the rest of the world?”

Sam and Dean glanced at each other, then the older Winchester took a step forward.

“I know you like to think you’re cunning,  _ God _ ,” he tried to put as much derision into the word as possible, “but are we really supposed to believe that while you sat back and watched us struggle, the one thing you cared to control were the monsters?”

“Now, now, Dean, they aren’t the only thing I control,” Chuck smirked. “Do you not remember the times your feathery friend, Castiel, returned against all odds? You should be thankful I kept sending him back to you even when you didn’t deserve it.”

“Go to hell,” Dean hissed, visibly straining not to jump Chuck, who plowed on unbothered.

“Apropos Feathers, where is he? Did you leave him at home, now that he barely has any juice left? Babysitting the half-and-half abomination like the good adoptive father he thinks he is?”

The two Winchesters shared a look at the mention of Jack – they had been hoping against all odds that Billie had been wrong and Chuck wasn’t aware of him. 

“Oh, of course I know he’s back, I’m God after all. Not gonna lie, the nephilim storyline required a bit of a rewrite after I felt the surge of power when he returned, but dealing with changes is part of being a writer. Sometimes, your characters will develop delusions and think they’re in control, and most of the time, that hurts the story, but… my favorite character, he just made it better.” Chuck snapped his fingers and suddenly, Castiel appeared next to Dean, rapidly blinking in confusion before he zeroed in on God and his eyes lit up with a furious flare of his grace. 

“Settle down, son, and save your juice, it won’t last much longer.”

“You son of a bitch,” Castiel growled, ready to attempt smiting Chuck. 

“I said SETTLE DOWN!” Chuck raised his voice threateningly at the same time as Dean’s hand shot out to grab Castiel’s elbow to hold the angel back. “Behave or I will restrain you. There is no need for father-son violence this time, the flavor of the month is fratricide.”

“Cas, it’s fine,” Dean murmured, briefly squeezing Castiel's arm in a soothing gesture before letting go. The angel sucked in a deep breath and relaxed slightly, but not entirely. 

“That’s it, listen to him,  _ Cas _ ,” Chuck mimicked the way Dean said the name, “he’s not as dumb as he looks most of the time.”

Castiel’s mouth twitched in anger. “You’re truly enjoying this. Toying with us. Pushing us around like the world is a giant chessboard.”

“Of course I am enjoying it, that’s the only reason any of you still exists! Especially you, Castiel. All the times I had to barter with the Shadow of the Empty to let you out… it wasn’t easy, but I just couldn’t let the angel with a crack in his chassis who became my favorite character simply nap till the end of eternity! Plus, whatever is going on with you and Dean… hm,” Chuck clicked his tongue in approval, like he just tried something delicious.

“You’re one twisted fucker, our father who aren’t in Heaven, crazy be thy name…” Dean remarked snarkily.

“ENOUGH!” A slam of Chuck’s fist on the altar brought on a bright flash of lightning followed by immediate thunder so loud it could’ve been inside the church rather than outside its walls. “I created you, boys, and I am writing all your storylines!” Chuck snarled.

“Are you?” Castiel countered with forced ease.

“Did you never wonder how you managed to choose the wrong option each time you had to make a decision? Trusting Crowley over Dean? Opening Purgatory? Trusting Metatron, the smarmy little weasel, of all people?”

At the reminder of his failings, Castiel’s resolve seemed to falter for a moment, but his eyes flitted to Dean and when their gazes met, he steeled himself. 

“I stand by my choices. They may not have been perfect, but they were mine.”

“Do you really think you developed free will on your own?” Chuck scoffed in disbelief. 

“No. But I had help,” Castiel looked at Dean again.

Chuck’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. “You’re...together. T–that wasn’t supposed to happen!” He stuttered, honest surprise on his face for the first time that day.

“But it did,” Dean confirmed, with a trademark  _ ‘eat shit, asshole _ ’ expression on his face. 

“I believed in you for so long," Castiel said quietly, the pain thick in his voice as he turned towards Chuck. “All of us angels believed in you.”

“Oh no, most of you didn’t, and especially not you. You kept defying orders at every possible turn, and it was so much fun! Mixing you with the Winchesters could have been too much, but I knew it would work perfectly,” Chuck grinned with a truly unhinged glint in his eyes.

“Wow, don’t you ever get tired of your own voice? Because all this blah blah blah is really grating on my nerves,” Amara joined in out of the blue, the shadows in the darkest corner of the church entwining to form her body. 

“Hey there, Amara. Nice of you to join us,” Chuck stood up, moving around the altar to perch on its corner closest to his sister, regarding her with a stern expression. “So, we’re on opposing ends again, huh?”

“I think we’ve always been, save for a moment of truce in the middle, brother,” she replied, her tone gentler all of a sudden. “But maybe we can go back to that again, if you stop this nonsense, just like I did years ago.”

Chuck scoffed. “Then, I agreed to the touchy-feely sibling reunion as a solution, because I thought it was unusual in its simplicity, but… no, it was weak, so there’ll be none of that this time, sis,” he shook his head, almost managing to look sad for a moment. 

“You’re not strong enough to successfully take me on.”

“Neither are you, and even if you were, you wouldn’t risk upsetting the balance. Not anymore. You’ve gone soft. You fulfilled the role I gave you well enough, I guess…”

“I am not one of your pawns.” Amara stepped out of the shadows and folded her arms over her chest. In the next moment, the church filled with frantic activity as she used her powers to pin her brother in place while the two Winchesters and Castiel fired at Chuck with everything they had to weaken him and Jack flew in, his eyes glowing amber. For a while, Amara and Jack had the upper hand, but soon, Amara’s face was shining with sweat, and eventually she stumbled. As Chuck’s fortune turned, he snapped his fingers and everything but him stopped, like time itself ground to a halt before he allowed it to start again, cautiously pinning everyone down.

“Sis, you should have taken my offer in Reno.” Snap. Amara disappeared, and a collective gasp of shock echoed. “Oh, don’t fret, I didn’t kill her. Yet. I just sent her away and locked her out of here. She’ll be dealt with later. In the meantime, hello there, grandson. I’d apologise for killing you, but clearly, it was just a temporary inconvenience.”

Jack’s eyes were still aflame with the gold of his grace as he struggled against his incorporeal bonds.

“I will not let you do this,” he tilted his head defiantly, looking down at Chuck in full use of his height.

“Yet, you didn’t take the last step to finish your power-up, as I knew you wouldn’t,” God taunted. 

“I’m not a… monster.”

“Maybe not in the classical sense of the word, child, but… you are letting the world end to save one measly angel, a wholly useless specimen, too. Do you want to tell them what’s going on, or shall I?” Chuck looked proud and gleeful, especially when Castiel closed his eyes, puzzle pieces seemingly falling in place.

“Jack,” the angel sighed.

“The tension, the drama!” Chuck rubbed his hands like a stereotypical cartoon villain and he walked over to Jack. “Go on, tell them what Billie told you.”

It was Sam who spoke instead of the nephilim. “He was supposed to kill Castiel as the final sacrifice, wasn’t he?”

“Ding ding ding, we have a winner.”

Stunned silence followed, until Dean shattered it with a howl. “Fuck this!”

Jack’s eyes stopped glowing and filled with tears instead, one drop rolling down his cheek. “Cas, you… you have an almost fully-formed soul. It’s been gradually growing for years now, and it’s getting stronger, stronger than your grace even, that’s why your powers are failing. Ingesting the energy of your soul should’ve been my last step, but I couldn’t.”

“You should have told me, son,” Castiel rasped. “All you would’ve had to do was ask.”

“I know,” Jack nodded. “That’s exactly why I didn’t.”

God let out an entirely inappropriate chuckle. “You’re all selfish bastards, guys, let’s face it. You act like you care about the world, about humanity, but in the end, it’s all about yourselves and your personal needs. You’re not any better than me. Just to prove it, I’m going to give you another chance. Jack, if you kill Castiel and eat up his soul like a good little soldier, I will not end the world before you kill me, too. God’s honest truth. Of course, Dean will break like the fragile shell held together by twine and tape he is and he will try to kill you, and even Sam won’t be able to bear you near him anymore, but the ultimate act of good would be achieved, I’d be dead. You would take my role. Maybe you could keep Dean from getting himself turned into a monster and Sam from killing him, but you would have to pull their strings the same way I’ve done to topple my plans. Otherwise, you will get to watch each other die and the world burn somehow, I haven’t decided on one specific ending yet. Deal?”

Fully in control, Chuck snapped his fingers yet again, and Castiel stood right in front of Jack, an angel blade in the nephilim’s badly shaking hand.

“It’s okay, Jack. I trust you, whatever you decide. I’m so proud of you.” Castiel swallowed his tears, and pulled at Jack’s hand until the tip of the blade rested over his heart. 

“Cas, no!” Dean yelled in agony, thrashing against everything holding him back, and so did Sam, pure fury twisting his face.

“Thank you. I love you, Dad,” Jack murmured.

Everything happened in a blink of an eye after that. A golden flash of light, wind from a flap of wings, an unidentifiable shout that changed from loud to muffled, and it was over. 

Chuck’s control cleared, and the two Winchesters rushed to Castiel’s side, all three staring numbly at the glaringly empty space Jack had occupied barely five seconds earlier.

“What just happened?” Sam asked, first to shake off the shock. Castiel sunk to the ground and Dean followed, pulling him halfway into his lap. 

“Jack opened a portal right behind Chuck and threw himself at him, then once they both were through, the portal closed,” Castiel recounted flatly. “I don’t know where they are, if they’re… dead.”

“They’re not dead.” The reply came from Amara as she stepped closer, having re-entered the church only a minute earlier. “I would have felt it if they were, my brother especially,” she explained, wiping her still sweaty forehead then running a hand through her dishevelled hair. “I came back as soon as I could... no clue how he managed to boot me out, but suddenly I found myself in some random casino.”

“We don’t really give a single, solitary fuck,” Dean growled. “Is your crap still balanced out by Chuck’s or will the damn sun start dying again?”

“That’s a weird way of thanking me for my help, Winchester, but fine. Everything is still in perfect order as far as I can tell.”

“Thank you,” Sam tried to defuse the situation before it could escalate. “Do you know where they might be?”

Billie joined them just in time to answer. “They’re in the Empty.”

This snapped the previously near-catatonic Castiel out of it. “Why is Jack in the Empty?” He bellowed, fighting Dean’s grip as it tightened to keep him from lashing out. “He doesn’t belong there…”

“The nephilim is not dead, Castiel,” Billie responded calmly. “He’s locking up Chuck there. Despite my efforts, he rejected my methods, as you surely know by now, but –”

“You wanted him to kill Castiel!” Dean interrupted her, angry and hostile. 

“It wasn’t my idea, trust me,” Billie rolled her eyes. “As I was saying, Jack refused to take the last step, but he decided to try to lock Chuck up in the Empty, now that he’s in control of it. Looks like it may work,” she shrugged and disappeared. 

“I really preferred the old Death…”

“Dean, timing,” Sam muttered disapprovingly as he sat down in the front pew. He turned to Amara, who stood to one side, visibly uncomfortable. “Any idea what’s going on in the Empty?”

“None,” she replied with a shake of her head. “I don’t have any power there, so I can’t even enter it of my own volition.” She looked away, and her gaze landed on Dean still sitting on the floor while he stroked Cas’ back in an attempt to comfort him. “I may have been wrong about what he needed the most.”

“I think you had the right idea, just not the perfect execution of said idea,” Sam said softly.

“Shit happens,” Amara chuckled dryly. 

“So, what now?”

“I don’t know. The world is my oyster, and it’s honestly not a bad catch. Give my regards to those two.”

“I will,” Sam nodded and watched as Amara disappeared.


	20. Chapter 20

“I’m not leaving.”

“It’s been hours, Cas. He… may not be coming back,” Dean said hesitantly, then looked up at his brother instead, silently asking him for help. 

“Maybe he’s back at the Bunker already,” Sam suggested, but the grimace on his face showed that even he didn’t believe that.

“I’d rather you didn’t insult me,” Castiel bristled.

Sam gave a tired smile in reply. “Okay, that was weak, I admit. But, Dean is right. We have to consider all the possibilities.”

“Don’t.”

“Cas,” Dean sighed. “You’ve been sitting in the same spot, on the floor, for hours now, and in case you missed it, so have I. My ass is numb.”

“So, you wish to abandon all hope because you’re uncomfortable?”

“That’s not what I mean, and you know it.”

“ _What_ do you mean then?”

Dean shot Sam another begging look, but the younger Winchester shrugged, clearly just as much at a loss as his brother was.

“What I’m trying to say is that he’ll find us, wherever we are.”

“And he’d want you to take care of yourself,” Sam offered. 

“Is emotional manipulation the best you can come up with?” Castiel scoffed, but deep down he knew he was being unnecessarily stubborn. 

“If we stay with you for one more hour, will you come home, even if Jack’s not here?” Dean’s tone was soft, and so was the touch of his hand on the small of Castiel’s back.

“Maybe.”

“I can work with that. Let’s sit next to Sam though, even that pew has to be more comfortable than the floor.”

“Okay,” Castiel nodded and stood up, then pulled Dean to his feet.

Suddenly, there was a crackle of electricity in the air, and the faint golden beginnings of a portal appeared. 

“Watch out, something’s happening behind you!” Sam warned, and Castiel whirled around, pushing Dean away and stepping in front of him in one swift motion. 

The portal opened fully, and Jack walked through it, looking worse for wear but without any obvious injuries.

“I’m so sorry,” he said in the way of a greeting while the portal closed behind him, and went straight to Castiel, tucking himself up against the angel like a child. Castiel wrapped his arms around him and held on tightly, both of them shaking. Minutes passed without them moving or talking, until Jack disentangled himself from Castiel’s embrace with a final sniffle and walked over to Sam to collect a hug from him, too. 

“Are you okay?” Dean put his hand on Castiel’s still trembling shoulder.

“He’s back,” the angel replied as he wiped his cheek with his sleeve, and he turned to face Dean, who by then had an armful of nephilim.

“Hey, kid,” Dean mumbled, a wide smile on his face as Jack seemed to settle in long-term, both hands fisted into the canvas of Dean’s jacket. “It’s okay, you’re okay,” he continued, rubbing soothing circles into Jack’s back, then he reached out and pulled Castiel in to wrap one arm around him, too. “If all this sap is ruining my reputation anyway, I might as well go all out.”

“Can I come, too?” Sam asked.

“Don’t even think about it, bitch!” Dean groused, but when Sam joined, he allowed some time to pass before breaking away. “So, is this it? Is it over?”

“I think so,” Jack nodded solemnly. “Chuck is locked up in the Empty. He’s sleeping, and he’s being watched over.”

“Watched over?” Sam echoed. 

“Yes. I woke up a few angels and even a demon who I felt to be trustworthy, that’s why I was gone so long. Oh, before I forget… an angel named Balthazar asked me to congratulate Dean and Cas on  _ ‘pulling their heads out of their arses’ _ , and that’s a direct quote,” Jack grinned, also doing the finger quotes for good measure.

Dean let out a groan. “Okay, that’s enough. Can we go home now?"


	21. Chapter 21

“I think I have a case,” Sam burst into the library, tablet in hand. 

“No,” Dean replied coolly, but his brother didn't seem to take notice. 

“Get this..” 

“Sam, seriously. No. The only thing I will be  _ 'getting' _ is some quality sleep in my own bed, for at least two nights in a row.”

“ _ Sleep _ in your own bed, oh right,” Sam teased, the sarcasm strong. 

“Maybe something else too, what's the difference to you? Come on, Sam. Just pass it on to someone else. You should call Eileen, take some time off, too. Least we deserve is a few days without hunting, I'd say. We recently got rid of capital G God, in case you forgot.”

“That’s exactly it. The cases are mounting… What if – “ 

Dean sighed, running a hand through his hair. He should’ve expected this – simply hearing about the future Chuck presented was bad enough, seeing it was clearly a whole ‘nother level. “What if what? You think there will be more things going bump in the night, like Chuck wanted you to think?” 

“Maybe…”

“We didn’t play by his book. We tore it to shreds and torched the remains. I…  _ we _ have Cas. We have Jack. We can take anything that’s thrown at us. Just not today, Sammy.”

“It’s Sam,” Sam groaned.

“And for the record, Chuck's a big, fat liar, who is having the longest, deepest nap of his life in the Empty. Now that we settled that, put that tablet down unless you’re going to use it to practice sign language with Eileen through it."

“How can you make  _ that _ sound dirty?” 

“It’s a special talent. I mean it though. Relax. That’s what I’m going to do, starting with a long soak in the bathtub, then – ”

“You know what, I’m not sure I’m interested in your plans of relaxation,” Sam grimaced.

“Just find your own then. But no research or hunting,” Dean wagged his finger and stood up to leave. On his way out he heard the tone of an outgoing Skype call, and he grinned. “Attaboy.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

“Dean?” Castiel stepped into the bedroom.

“Yeah, I’m here. What’s up?”

“I... there's something I want to tell you.”

“Me too, Cas, but I don't know how to get the words out.” Dean stood up, wearing his gray robe and an unreadable expression on his face as he fixed his gaze on Castiel. The barely-angel was sure that something changed, and he knew for a fact something else was definitely going to change not much later.

“That's okay, you don't have to. But, if you're ready to listen, I'd like to start. I can't and won't make any promises...” Castiel stopped, the carefully pre-constructed sentences suddenly an incoherent jumble in his brain.

“That's good, because I don't believe in them, but I do believe in you.” In a sudden change of mood, Dean started laughing. “Maybe I should have taken the  _ sparks _ that flew when I first met you seriously. There was even  _ banging _ , like a screen door in a hurricane,” he guffawed. Castiel shot him a look that clearly said that he had no idea what was going on, but to be on the safe side, he also verbalized his confusion.

“What are you talking about?” 

“Way back then, when you walked into that barn to put the fear of God in me-”

“That was not my intention!” Castiel’s voice rose in indignation.

“But that's what you did, at least for the first few minutes. Anyway, I was trying to be funny here, and now you've messed it up.”

“I believe your approved response to this would be 'shit happens',” the angel winked, and Dean dissolved into laughter once again. Patiently, Castiel waited for it to subside before he continued. “I love you, Dean Winchester.” He stepped closer, gently putting his palms on either side of his hunter's face. Dean sighed contently, and Castiel kissed his forehead softly, then both his cheeks, then the tip of his nose, then, finally, reaching his lips. “I'm right here, and as long as it's up to me, I'm not going anywhere.”

“I know,” Dean whispered, and with a deep breath, he opened the sash of his robe, allowing the heavy fabric to slide off his shoulders and onto the floor. Gloriously naked, he climbed onto the bed, laid down on his back and raised both hands above his head. 

No matter how many times they'd been intimate before, seeing Dean unguarded like this never stopped being an exhilarating experience, and for a moment, Castiel forgot how to breathe, looking down at the beautiful human being who was waiting for him to make a move, bright green eyes asking him to understand the silent admission. Using the very last flicker of his grace, he wished his clothes away and draped himself over Dean, covering the body he'd rebuilt so long ago with his own. 

“I love you.”

“Take me, Cas. I'm yours.”

**THE END**


	22. Soundtrack

A few of the songs are featured in the story, but the majority of them were just chosen because of their lyrics.

[Youtube playlist](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLTnuXN_mCj_dCQiTgP4Cx4y0YTOLV4ecK)

- ** _Hold me tight or don't_** by **Fall Out Boy**

 _“_ _I got too high again_

_Realized I can't not be with you_

_Or be just your friend_

_I love you to death_

_But I just can't, I just can't pretend_

_We were lovers first_

_Confidants but never friends_

_Were we ever friends?”_

- **_I'm not an angel_ ** by **Halestorm**

_“I wasn't always this way_

_I used to be the one with the halo_

_But that disappeared when I had my first taste_

_And fell from grace_

_It left me in this place”_

- **_Oh glory_ ** by **Panic! at the Disco**

_“_ _I can only hope it's true enough_

_That every little thing I do for love_

_Redeems me from the moments_

_I've deemed worthy of the worst things that I've done_

_And saves me from myself in times of envy_

_When I'm missing everyone_

_If I wake in the morning_

_I only need two more miracles to be a saint_

_Everything I promised everyone I'd be_

_Well, I just ain't”_

- ** _The unforgiven I-II-III_** by **Metallica** (these are the only ones actually featured in the fic as the songs Dean sings along to, and I inserted the lyrics in Chapter 6)

- **_On my own_ ** by **Ashes Remain**

_“So I surrender my soul_

_I'm reaching out for your hope_

_I lay my weapons down_

_I'm ready for you now_

_Bring me out_

_Come and find me in the dark now_

_Everyday by myself I'm breaking down_

_I don't wanna fight alone anymore_

_Bring me out_

_From the prison of my own pride_

_My God I need a hope I can't deny_

_In the end I'm realizing_

_I was never meant to fight on my own”_

- ** _Collar full_** by **Panic! at the Disco**

_“We've waited so damn long, we're sick and tired_

_I won't leave any doubt or stone unturned_

_I've got a collar full of chemistry from your company_

_So maybe tonight I'll be the libertine_

_Show me your love, your love_

_Gimme more but it's not enough_

_Show me your love, your love_

_Before the world catches up_

_'Cause there's always time for second guesses, I don't wanna know_

_If you're gonna be the death of me, that's how I wanna go_

_..._

_You've got a pocket full of reasons why you're here tonight_

_So, baby, tonight just be the death of me”_

- **_Break in_ ** by **Halestorm**

_“And when the lights come on_

_You see me as I am_

_You're still inside me_

_You are the only one_

_The only that sees me_

_That trusts me and believes me_

_You are the only one_

_The only one that knows me_

_And in the dark you show me_

_It's perfectly reckless_

_Damn you leave me defenseless_

_So break in_

_Break in_

_Put your lighter in the air and lead me back home”_

- **_Maybe I believe_ ** by **Volbeat**

 _“_ _Starting to believe life is love_

_Starting to believe that I can lose control_

_High and low with emotions_

_..._

_Gather around me please, together we're fine_

_Nothing is unleashed but the darkness and the light”_

- **_Rewind the exit_ ** by **Volbeat**

_“Just bring back that moment, I know I'll be fine_

_You take down the heavens with starlight_

_How long can the angels hold your body cold?_

_You're born with the power and a fire soul_

_Rewinding the exit wound_

_I'm holding on to you_

_'Cause I need words like anyone_

_And I need love like everyone_

_With those words I'm strong enough_

_And I need love like everyone_

_Hold on to your lifeline and be yourself_

_Life is too short to be someone else_

_I'm finally comfortable with who I am_

_But that doesn't mean that I'm perfect_

_..._

_Who took your heart_

_And who pulled the light out of you?_

_You gave me your love_

_I painted my life with the blues.”_


End file.
